Catching the Wind Chapter 8: Back in Kirkwall, a dragon age fanfic

Author's Disclaimer: I don't own a thing belonging to "Dragon Age 2!" Nada thing.

Author's notes: Going into the game's plot where Castillon starts tracking Isabela down with the quickness after the three-year split. She needs some help to get him off her back.

CharlieBarrow: As always, thank you so much for showing me that romance video on youtube. It got me into the Dragon Age universe :P

QueenTyzula: You're in the same bandwagon as me as in not having played the games :P But the relationship is fun to explore! I hope you're enjoying.

"Catching the Wind"

Chapter eight "Back in Kirkwall"

Over three years later:

"You have to go, Bela. You know Castillon won't quit 'til he finds you."

Isabela cast a worried look to her friend as he held onto her squirming boys. Falcon and Lark's eyes were huge and they struggled to get down to clutch at her legs.

"I know I have to," Isabela said. She was packing a bag with tunics and a couple of new corsets. Zevran looked away as she added her small clothes, and a few personal items. Also going in the bag was a small miniature portrait of her boys, done in an artist friend's hand. Falcon and Lark may have her coloring, but their looks were all Hawke. Her serious purse of the lips, wide easy smiles and shining green eyes were in her son's features.

The boys squirmed so hard, Zevran had to set them down and they ran swiftly on short chubby legs toward her.

"Mama, where are you going?" Falcon sniffed. He rubbed a fist against his eye, trying not to cry. Lark pouted, trying to look angry.

"We're coming too!"

Isabela put her things down and collected the twins up in her arms. Her lips kissed each downy head as the boys babbled and cried against her. She closed her eyes trying not to cry herself. She was used to running from the first sight of danger, but she truly felt terrible for it now. She was doing it for her boys. She had to get rid of her old enemy and she couldn't let him know about them!

"Mama has to do something very, very important to keep you both safe. Oh, I wish I could take you with me." Isabela kissed each damp cheek. Falcon sniffled against her shoulder and Lark stubbornly kept his angry face, despite the tears. "Mama loves her boys so much."

"Pwomise?" This from Falcon. Isabela kissed his brow then his lips.

"Yes, I promise."

"When will you come back?" Lark blinked rapidly. Small tears wet his eyes. Isabela cupped his cheek and kissed him.

"As soon as I can. Uncle Zevran is in charge. He'll take good care of you." At this, Isabela swept a pleading look to her friend. Zevran smiled and winked, taking the responsibility with ease.

"I always do. We'll have fun here, won't we, boys?"

The boys looked relaxed and Isabela eased them to sit in her lap, one arm around each small body.

"Hopefully I'll have Hawke's help," Isabela said to Zevran. The twins perked at the mention of that name. They'd been told several bedtime stories about the noble Hawke of Kirkwall. Isabela had told them about some of her deeds, and she needn't have embellished; Hawke's deeds were always heroic. Of course, to young ears, a mysterious guardsman would sound as epic as an operatic saga.

"The Champion!" Lark crowed. Falcon's eyes were huge.

"Mama knows Hawke?"

"Yes, Falcon. Your mama knows Hawke." Isabela's heart lurched. As her pups got bigger, she had gone through several scenarios of how to get rid of the old thorn in her side that wouldn't die. It would have to be Hawke. She was skilled at battle, loyal to a fault, and could call on Captain Aveline's forces if need be. The law of Kirkwall ran with her. Isabela faltered on 'loyal to a fault.' She herself hadn't shown any loyalty in fleeing. But…maybe…. Maybe Hawke would want to see her.

Isabela would force a chance with her if she had to. Her life depended on it. And as she looked at her children's faces, Isabela knew she couldn't lose.

8
8

Strenuous gasps and moans filled the large bedchamber. Small hands clasped the canopy and tugged the curtain loose. On her knees, pussy stretched by Hawke's cock from behind, Merrill didn't have anything else to hold onto. Hawke's hands held onto her belly and hips as she steadily plowed into her. Merrill's tight walls clung to her on each thrust. Their labored breathing filled the air.

"Hawke…." Merrill murmured. Hawke grinned, bowing her head against Merrill shoulders from behind. Her lips left a string of hot kisses along Merrill's spine as she thrust her hips firmly. Merrill was so close that she should stop teasing. When Hawke's hand went between Merrill's legs and rolled her clit between her fingers, the elf cried out, arching up on her hands. She pushed back hard against Hawke and the Champion stoked her lust along til she fell apart. Merrill fell onto her arms, face pressed into the mattress. She cried out as she came.

Hawke kissed her shoulder as she kept her thrusts languid and firm. When Merrill trembled around her, she pulled out gently. The small sighs Merrill made as she did made the base of her cock twitch. Hawke lay against the elf's back, kissing her shoulder. Her pounding erection pressed against Merrill's hip.

Merrill turned in her arms and pressed up against Hawke's torso. Her arms slung around Hawke's neck and they hungrily kissed. Merrill tugged on Hawke's lower lip with her teeth, murmuring against her.

"Ah, ma vhenan," Merrill smiled as she caught her breath. Hawke cupped her cheek. Merrill felt her cock stand upright against her and moved on top of the naked Champion, climbing on top. Hawke spread her thighs, sighing with contentment as Merrill rubbed herself against her erection. She needed to come and after giving Merrill a lengthy orgasm, she knew her erstwhile girlfriend would be happy to oblige.

Merrill's cave was deliciously wet, her pussy juices coating Hawke's cock. Hawke felt herself twitching, her hands gripping the elf's slim hips. Merrill's eyes locked onto hers as she sank down, trembling over the head of her cock. Hawke leaned up to kiss her throat, her lower back protesting at the angle. She kept at it, hands gliding up and down the elf's small back.

"Oh, Hawke…." Merrill murmured above her. Hawke panted harshly beneath her. Merrill was gripping the upper part of her cock in delicious strokes, squeezing down around her. The length of her shaft pulsed and Hawke rode it, gladly pushed along by Merrill's squeezing cave.

"Fuck…Merrill…just like that…." Hawke's voice whined. Merrill's heart surged. She loved that she made Hawke this unrestrained. She had a feeling Hawke wasn't like this with anyone else. She trusted her above all else with intimacy. Merrill ground down against her, watching the Champion lean back, head tilted trustingly. Merrill's hands soothed down the scars across Hawke's shoulders and sternum, skimming over her breasts, and lower along the raised scars along her abdomen. Hawke's body concaved beneath her touch, her eyes closed with pleasure.

As Hawke began to come wildly inside her, Merrill was struck. Call it inspiration, love, or what have you, she couldn't let the moment go. As her Champion came beneath her, filling her, Merrill leaned down and sank her teeth along the soft upturned throat of her lover. Hawke's gasp was strangled and surprised. Her cock surged, making her come harder. Merrill shuddered, feeling stretched beyond belief. She held her bite, putting all her love and intentions into it. By the time Hawke was spent, shuddering and gasping beneath her, Merrill leaned up on her hands, surveying her work.

The bite was very noticeable, and if Hawke favored the union, would become permanent. Particularly if she chose to return the mark onto her….. Merrill's heart was in her eyes.

"Hawke…" her tone was pleading. Hawke ran her hands up and down her back, eyes serious and still. She didn't look angry, but she wasn't doing anything in return. Merrill gave a gasp of mental anguish and collapsed, face buried against Hawke's breast. "I'm sorry, now you're mad at me. Shouldn't have said that….."

"Merrill…" Hawke's hand gently wound through her hair, urging her face up. A small smile was on Hawke's lips. It was gentle, and concern was across her features. Concern for HER. "I… I don't know what to say. I wasn't expecting that…."

Merrill's lips turned into a sad frown. "I- I should have asked! I wanted to…..I …."

Hawke leaned up and gently kissed the babbling from her lips. "It's alright, Merrill."

"Will,,…." Hope flared in the elf's heart. She curled her legs round Hawke's, still joined on top of her. "Will you….one day?"

Hawke knew what she was asking. Her eyes were guilty as they slid to the side. "I….I don't know. Not right now, at least."

Hope and anguish warred in Merrill's heart. "Maybe…. Maybe…. Think on it? I'm here for you, Hawke. I am…."

"I know." Hawke kissed her again and rolled over on top. She worked her hips back, separating from the elf and Merrill sighed with contentment as Hawke's seed spilled out of her. Hawke chuckled. She pulled a dry sheet across them, urging Merrill to cuddle close against her. "We always wreck the sheets. Orana is beside herself, we give her so much linen to wash."

"I'm sorry?" Merrill said. Hawke kissed her brow.

"Don't be…"

"I could help her! So she wouldn't be upset," Merrill offered cheerily. Hawke traced a finger along the tattoos across the elf's cheek.

"You're too sweet, Merrill. She'd like that."

As the two twined together and Hawke was dozing off, Merrill's thoughts were awhirl. She selfishly trailed her fingers up and down the Champion's body, watching her rest. When Hawke began to fidget and groan in her sleep, Merrill calmly reopened a cut on her arm with her dagger. It may be unconventional to use blood magic to ease physical aches and mental anguish, but she longed for Hawke's peace of mind more than anything.

Hawke's hands pulled Merrill closer to her, hands tight across her body even as she slept. Merrill allowed herself to be pulled close. She wrapped an arm around Hawke's neck and pressed soft kisses across her face. A loud snore was her answer. At the very least, Hawke was comforted with her near. And she showed it in her sleep. Merrill could be happy with this for now.

8
8

*
8
8

The city's noises filled her ears as Isabela stepped off the ship's gangplank. She had booked passage on the swiftest ship she could find on short notice, and within a fortnight she was back in bustling Kirkwall. Shouldering her bag, Isabela took off down the docks at a strut, nodding greetings to the odd sailors that recognized and hailed her.

Her feet took her toward Low Town and the Hanged Man. She had kept a room there for her time in Kirkwall before, and Hawke and her companions had often found her there. Despite herself, Isabela walked faster, heart thundering. She could find Hawke very soon. If not there, Varric or Merrill or someone else would be, and Isabela could make her way to Hawke's estate should she be absent.

It was odd how quickly the route there went. Isabela had trod the familiar path to the Hanged Man so often, she truly could have done it in her sleep. Her footsteps hastened and she found a wide smile stretching her lips. Despite everything that had happened, leaving, having her pups, and Castillon issuing her capture yet again, she was excited. Hawke was here. Somewhere in the city, and possibly up in the tavern ahead. And who knows, maybe she'd be glad to see her. Maybe she'd see that old spark in her ex-lover's eyes. And maybe one day, she'd be in her arms…. maybe tonight…..

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? There's always room."

"I'm sure, Hawke. I'll be fine! Don't worry."

Isabela's heart thundered in her breast as she heard two familiar voices, as familiar as her own name. Hawke? And Merrill? Hawke!

Before Isabela could call out, making out the two familiar shapes up ahead, she saw Hawke duck her head and capture Merrill's lips with her own. Merrill wasn't surprised; she melted into the embrace and Isabela felt her heart stop. Hawke clasped the elf in her arms as she pressed her up against the wall of the nearby building. The gesture looked too practiced, too intimate to be just a one-time thing.

Her chest burned and Isabela forced an exhale of breath. She had to remind herself to breathe. Her feet stopped in her tracks and she fairly stared. What was going on? Isabela could make out Merrill's thin arms twine round Hawke's neck as she pressed up against her. Isabela kept staring, almost counting the moments until the two separated for air.

Merrill was smiling up into Hawke's face, fingers toying with the collar of the Champion's tunic. As she unfastened the first few clasps, Hawke gave a small smile and Merrill leaned up on her toes to brush her lips across her throat. At first Isabela couldn't see why. But a mark glistened on Hawke's throat and Isabela felt her stomach drop to her feet.

Merrill had marked Hawke? They were mated? Isabela swallowed, the corners of her lips pulled down. They had exchanged marks? Was she too late? She should have come back sooner. She should have said something before she left!... Isabela darted around the corner of the building, pressing a hand against her breast. Her heart was thundering and grave disappointment made her stomach cramp up.

Hawke was mated to Merrill! She was too late…too late!... Looking back at the pair was an exercise in masochism. Isabela forced herself to. Hawke was smiling gently at the elf, kissing the back of her hand chivalrously.

"Go on down, I'll watch you," she said. Merrill flushed, but it was mixed with a touch of fear.

"You don't have to make a decision now! I'll wait, Hawke. I can wait," she said sweetly. The words made no sense to the distraught pirate. Hawke leaned to kiss the elf again. It was shorter this time, but all the more tender. Isabela felt like she was going to be sick on herself. Merrill departed from Hawke's grip and made her way toward her hut, Hawke standing guard as always, watching to make sure she got in safely.

She COULD call out to Hawke now. But after witnessing that little scene, Isabela's usual confidence was shattered. She hastily ran toward the Hanged Man's door and looked back one last time. Hawke's eyes gleamed in the direction of Merrill's home. The mark on her uncovered throat was very noticeable. Isabela swallowed and pushed the wooden door of the tavern open.

Hawke strode down toward the door of the Hanged Man, a bounce in her step. While she didn't think she'd fall for Merrill that way, she was becoming more and more fond of her erstwhile girlfriend. Merrill didn't mention titles and she didn't forbid Hawke's extra-curricular activities; she always made Hawke feel wanted and needed. And just maybe, she could fall in love with her. She was already halfway there, she was certain of it.

Hawke went along, going over tally marks in her head. She wanted to think it through tonight, and she paused at the door of the Hanged Man. Going in for a drink without Merrill felt futile. Varric would have a tale or two for her, but she had a lot of heavy thinking to do. A public outing would have to wait for the next day. As Hawke turned to head toward High Town, she paused. It was stupid, and it may have just been the setting, but the Champion was certain she could smell a familiar wafting of leather, vanilla and rum. Isabela's scent.

Of course, she'd come to mind when considering mating Merrill. Hawke's heart had been thoroughly broken and it had been years since she'd seen the pirate. Well, she'd have to put her aside for well and good. Hawke strode past the tavern and toward home. As she went along, Hawke's heart grew heavier. Isabela…was she even alive? Well if she were, she wished her well, but Hawke couldn't say she wasn't hurt. That familiar scent riled up her heart more than she could say.

8
8

The usual noise of the patrons slammed into Isabela's ears as she closed the front door hastily behind her. The barkeep was wiping glasses and pouring ale or whiskey. Several patrons sat on stools opposite the bar, or at the random tables flung about the establishment.

Several people hailed her, calling out greetings. Isabela forced a smile and sauntered in, bag shouldered. She perched on her usual stool, glad there wasn't anyone in her usual spot. While she was pondering the strangeness of that despite the tavern's crowd, a familiar voice rang out behind her.

"By the glorious hair on my chest! If it isn't Captain Isabela!"

Isabela found her smile wasn't forced. "Varric! How are you?"

"Just fine. Where have you BEEN? We must catch up!"

Isabela climbed off her stool and followed Varric to his usual table. The two sat over tall glasses of ale, chattering over the past three year's deeds. Isabela wanted to mention her sons, but bit her tongue about it. Varric was close to Hawke, and he would certainly tell. No, for now, she had to keep it to herself.

"You left so suddenly, we feared something was wrong," Varric was saying. Isabela took a sip from her glass, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, well….I just figured it was time. But I'm back now," Isabela insisted. Varric chuckled.

"Kirkwall better watch out."

They traded tales as the night wound on. Isabela kept skirting looks toward the tavern's door, but there was no sign of Hawke. Varric noticed and chuckled.

"She may be in for the night."

"I know. It may be too early to call on favors, but can you do me one, Varric?" Isabela decided to just go ahead and ask. She knew Varric's answer before he spoke.

"Of course, Isabela. What is it?"

"Could you…..could you deliver a letter to Hawke's home telling her I'm here? I'd really like to see her," Isabela said. She couldn't help the thundering of her heart. Varric's eyebrow was raised high.

"Yes, of course. You could just up and go to her estate, you know. She'd be home this time of night," Varric suggested. Isabela flushed.

"Can you do it, Varrric?" she pressed. The dwarf sighed.

"Yes, of course. Anything for a friend."

Isablea sighed. "Thanks."

Well, at least the way would be set. And she'd be seeing Hawke as early as tomorrow.

"Where's Hawke tonight? I was hoping to give her my room key!" one of the tavern's patrons pouted. Isabela cringed inwardly as she listened to the patrons talk about her lover. Well, ex-lover. Was Hawke making her stride through the obvious admirers?

"You would! She's been exclusive lately with that elf. Too bad; she used to take on one or two new partners a night!"

Isabela's brow quirked. It was hypocritical of her to be upset; she had taken on other sexual partners in the past three years as well. But it still hurt all the same.

Varric looked over his shoulder, scowling at the gossiping women. "Don't mind them, Isabela. Hawke isn't as they say now."

"Now, huh?" Isabela couldn't help but ask. Varric looked uncomfortable.

"Well, that is… "

"It's fine," Isabela said, even though it wasn't. "Sure is crowded here. Think any rooms are available?"

Isabela looked around the room. Her old room above the tavern had been free for rent and it felt strangely familiar and strange to slide a few gold coins across the counter to obtain the key. Isabela set her bag down and looked around for long moments. As she went to loosen her corset and prepare for bed, and Isabela's eyes drifted to the strip of red cloth tied around her bicep. It had been cut off of Hawke's bloodied tunic after the Arishok attack, after she'd knotted Hawke, and as she was leaving Kirkwall. She'd made Falcon and Lark before cutting off the strip of fabric she never took off.

Isabela's fingers tangled in the knot and she finally worked the fabric loose. She clutched the hard fabric tightly, but couldn't bring herself to burn it in the room's lantern. She slowly retied it around her arm slowly. Varric was going to deliver a letter to Hawke's estate in the morning. She would have to wait.

Isabela loosened her tunic and slid under the covers. She missed her boys. She missed their squirmy warm bodies on either side of her, their gentle breathing filling her ears. Tears filled Isabela's eyes.

Would Hawke see her? Would they be reconciled? Seeing her ex-lover kissing their friend was a sore image that replayed behind her eyelids again and again. Isabela clutched her pillow and pressed it over her head in frustration.

8
8

Hawke sipped a glass of wine as she walked around her estate's dining room. Orana was polishing something at random and she nodded a good night to the elven maid. Her thoughts went in circles. She had been happy being with Merrill, even with the surprise biting. She had a lot to think about concerning her little elf. She DID love being with her. And maybe there was a future to pursue there.

Then the old thoughts of Isabela cropped up. Inhaling her familiar scent, or something close to it, triggered her old feelings of want and hurt over the pirate. She had been hurt by her, left without even a note. But as Hawke sipped and walked around her home, she had to concede the hurt wasn't as bad as it had been. She truly wished Isabela well, wherever she was. She didn't want anything bad to ever happen to her. No hard feelings, not anymore. In all their interactions, Isabela had never promised a life together. She had eluded to as much, telling her about her forced marriage, and having left a past lover who had also proposed marriage. Hawke had had to accept that. And she did.

As she silently forgave the pirate, Hawke's heart felt lighter. Now she could be free to take on Merrill's mating mark with a fresh step. She could mate her back. They could be happy. Hawke touched the bite mark on her throat. She flushed, remembering how Merrill's cheeks had been flushed as she leaned down on her to set it there, small breasts pressing into her, damp cave squeezing her length below. If Hawke chose to bite her back, it would be permanent. They would be mated.

And she could go on without Isabela at last.

End for now

End notes: Ohohooh and the plot thickens. What happens next? You may be surprised :P Like it, smash that button and do that review thing ^_^ Stay strong, my lovelies.

Sincerely, pen

9/17/2017