Author's Disclaimer: I don't own a thing belonging to "Dragon Age 2 "or "Dragon Age Inquisition." Nada.
Author's notes: Hawke on the road. Her family's thoughts about that. Stay tuned.
For CharlieBarrow, for all those that read this, even you who don't leave a review, thank you. But I do appreciate those.
A few lines were written by and with CharlieBarrow. Credit to her. The Solas lines about dalish tattoos. And Isabela's need to scrap. And the part about Cole :P
"Catching the Wind"
Chapter thirty-eight "Skyhold Greeting"
The sailors moved about on deck, calling out orders and curses as they worked. The captain of the Dim Horizon hailed Hawke as she came sky-side. The ex-Champion brushed errant bangs out of her eyes as she tried to match the ship's lurching rocks to greet the woman. Her mabari hound, Angela, scampered after. When Hawke had taken her things aboard the Dim Horizon a few days ago, Angela had bounded after. Hawke had pushed and pleaded for the hound to stay, but he had refused to budge from the ship. So Hawke had left with one companion from home at least. It was that or risk getting noticed from the noise Angela had caused.
"We port Antiva-side in two days. Do you want to move on with us or get off there?" the woman asked. Hawke sighed. Her heart weighed her steps as heavy.
"Get off there. I'll take a horse further inland," Hawke muttered. The woman nodded. She peered at the ex-Champion's unsmiling handsome face.
"I get the feeling you didn't tell Captain Isabela you were sailing with us. No matter. If ever I run into your mate again, I'll tell her your conscience is heavy. You sure as heck look it," she said wisely. Hawke gave a weak smile.
"Thanks," she muttered.
Some of the sailors called out good morning and Hawke nodded back. She leaned against the railing of the ship, inhaling the salt air. She preferred this smell on her mate's ship. Sailing into port for supplies for the island….
'You did this to yourself, Hawke. Get to the Inquisition, help them, help Varric. Then go home.'
She only hoped she COULD go back home. Hawke knew Isabela being mad would be the least of her worries. She hoped she wouldn't bar her entrance from the island and her family.
Hawke sighed. She went over the letters she had penned last night, how they had brought tears to her eyes and she'd slept poorly for it. She'd written one for each pup and hoped her oldest would read Sparrow's and Magpie's to them. One to Merrill, her sweet mate. One to Isabela, mother of her children.
Hawke had written she was sorry at least once in each letter. Six times sorry she was to do this to them. She'd asked Falcon to continue his training and spar with Craven and the sailors. Lark to practice his dagger strokes. Both to watch over their sisters. Magpie to listen to her mothers and learn her magic lessons. Sparrow, just words of love. She was so small….
The letters for her mates was even harder. Hawke regretted the last time she'd made love to Merrill had been a few weeks ago. Isabela had been far closer to her leaving and Hawke regretted not sneaking her second mate away. But maybe that was for the best. She wouldn't have that close of a memory of their intimacy to tear her heart asunder.
And Isabela….Hawke had written she hoped Isabela understood. She wasn't leaving her for hopefully too long, and it was solely to help the Inquisition. She'd written she loved her and would be back for her. Hawke resolved to make this true. She would offer up any information on Corypheus and use her own blood to help seal him if need be.
But she wouldn't give her life. She would make sure to exit any dangerous missions to ensure she would get back. Hawke had promised. And she didn't want to break her promise.
Hawke sighed, setting her chin on her folded arms on the rail. She remembered the soft kiss she'd given Isabela when they'd fallen asleep. How Merrill tucked against her back. She hoped she would get back to them soon. Their touch was already receding from tactile memory.
Angela nudged Hawke's leg. She reached down absently to pat his large head. She wished the hound had stayed with her pups. But at least she had the mabari to anchor her to home.
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"Hold these for a Captain Isabela? Will do," the merchant said. He accepted the six sealed letters and tucked them away in a leather parcel and tied the string. Hawke watched him place the parcel on a shelf with several others.
"Thanks," Hawke said, handing him a small pouch of coins for the fee. The man juggled the bag and nodded, stowing it in his desk drawer. "And if Captain Isabela asks…just….well, just give her the letters."
The bearded man noted the regret in the warrior's eyes. Her scar stood out prominently on her nose and her black bangs hung in her overwhelming sad green eyes. But then the captain's name registered something, and he laughed.
"Isabela? Really, that Isabela? Hell, I haven't seen her in years! She was a friend of my buddies down at the tavern. We had a real good time…."
Hawke's fists clenched hard over the strap of her bag until the knuckles stood out white. She knew her mate had a past. Heck, she didn't think she'd ever win her heart ever. But to hear it yet again combined with her guilt was enough to blow her temper. Hawke angrily stalked to the door of the notary's shop and slammed it on her way out.
Men and women moved quickly through the port's market area and Hawke moved with them. The activities around her moved with an air of normalcy and bustling motion, but Hawke's mind and heart were with her family. They were a few days without her. And she was already out of her mind with worry for them. Was Sparrow sleeping okay? Hawke had had her mates take turns to put her down. Magpie had needed more attention from her since Sparrow's birth.
And her sons….. They had been young when she'd first met them. Hawke regretted the rift that Isabela and her past foolishness had gone into creating such a rift that Isabela felt she had to leave. She wished she'd been there for her first pup's birth. She had been glad Isabela had come back to start another chance with her. And had even embraced Merrill into their family. But now….
"She'll bloody hate me." Hawke wanted to get this business over with to get back home but almost dreaded the initial reunion with her mate. Isabela was going to be more than pissed.
"Who, serah?" the nearby merchant asked. Hawke looked up, brushed her off. Then she turned the corner to a nearby stable and pickets of horses grazing.
"Fine steeds for sale or rent!" the barn owner called to passing townsfolk. Hawke saluted the man.
"I'll take one. To buy."
"This grey mare will do you fine, serah. She's swift and sure-footed," he declared, holding a palm out. Hawke pressed ten gold coins into his hand and the man smiled. "Her name's Buttercup."
Hawke shrugged at the name and went to collect the mare's saddle and bridle. After greeting the mare with a carrot and a few moments to acclimatize to her presence, Hawke saddled her and led the mare by the bridle away down the street. The mare nipped gently at Hawke's tunic sleeve, above her gauntlet, and Hawke smiled. It was good to have another companion, of the animal variety.
Angela padded beside her, giving his mabari grin to no one in particular. The horse nickered softly at him and lifted large soft eyes to Hawke. Hawke patted her nose and paused to step into a stirrup and mount her. Buttercup waited patiently as she did; sure-footed she was. Hawke got up without any problems and pushed her shoulder bag to balance against one side of her waist. She whistled down to Angela to get his attention and touched her heels to the mare's sides.
"We ride," she commanded gently. Buttercup whinnied and spurred forward. Angela barked and gave chase alongside. At least they were on their way.
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Craven was worried.
He walked along the deck of the Stormy Lover, who was running out to sea at fast a clip as the sailors could work her. Mel was hopping along the beams above, checking on lines and knots with a few of the men. Craven came up to the steering platform and sighed. Isabela was at the wheel, staring off into the horizon. By the jut of her jaw, he should know to steer clear. He cleared his throat and approached anyways.
"Cap'n…"
The dagger that was thrown at him he saw coming. He knocked it away with his machete and then jogged to retrieve it. Isabela's hand was out, waiting, and Craven offered her the dagger, hilt first.
"Cap'n…"
"Don't," Isabela snapped. Her hands were clenched on the wheel. Craven waited. Isabela sighed. "I'm going to kill her…."
Craven's mouth turned down in a frown. "You won't…. she's your mate."
"She left," Isabela hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm going to beat her bloody….."
Craven coughed. "After a few hits…..maybe that'll be enough."
"The pups were crying!" Isabela hissed. Her fury turned to Craven who waited. He blinked.
"All of you did." When Isabela raised a fist to him, he let her beat on his barrel chest. "Cap'n, did you think that maybe Hawke feels she needs to help this Inquisition?"
"I did," Isabela ground out. "She always has to be the bloody hero. I thought when we left Kirkwall, that would be over with. Her first need should be to us!"
"It is," Craven agreed. "I've never seen such a dedicated sire."
Isabela was quieted. She muttered under her breath, but Craven saw a lot of the rage leave her face. Craven patted her shoulder, his large hand falling heavily there. Isabela was oddly quieted, her rage distilled to a point of silence. Worry then swept in to replace the odd moment of emptiness and Isabela's head hurt.
She had left her pups with Merrill and she'd had to try to console the crying elf before leaving. Isabela felt bad for putting the whole household on Merrill, and hoped the twins were helping her keep it together. Well, they'd better.
A few ports. Then she'd return to take the burden off the pup's second mother.
Isabela had to find Hawke. She'd drag her home if she had to.
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Falcon walked outside, his father's helm tucked under one arm. Mamae had been nigh on inconsolable after Mama had left on her ship and neither of the twins or pups were allowed to go. It had put the pre-teen in a sour mood, and he knew his brother was feeling as rotten. After holding Mamae and cuddling the teary-eyed girls between them, he had begged off, pretending he needed to use the washroom.
But then he'd ducked out on the back deck and onto the sand, retrieving Papa's helm where he'd hidden it in the shrubs. The cool dome of metal did nothing to soothe him, yet his small hands cradled it reverently. Papa had worn it in battles during the events at their old home in Kirkwall. Mama had said so and Falcon remembered Papa wearing it with her full armor one time. But she rarely liked wearing her helm and left it off most times as not. That one memory stuck in Falcon's mind like a gleaming gem.
Without thinking, Falcon lifted the helm and fitted it over his head. His hair cushioned the heavy metal against his head and wobbled slightly when he moved his head. It was a little too big for him. But it fit his papa well. Falcon peered through the open visor of the helm, trying to imagine how the rest of Papa's armor looked with it.
Heavy footfalls sounded on the deck behind him and Falcon whirled to face his brother. He yanked the helm off and cradled it protectively. His twin stared at him, mouth open to call him in to help when his eyes fell on the helm in his hands.
"Papa's helm…"
"Yeah," Falcon said. He clutched the helmet to his chest suddenly. Lark advanced on him, brows pulled taut over his flashing green eyes.
"That's where it went. Give it here, Fal."
Falcon scowled at Lark's command. "No," he growled. Lark took a fighting stance. He raised a skinny fist.
"Give it!"
"Take it!" Falcon cursed. He set the helm on the sand and Lark lunged at him. They rolled on the sand, each trying to grapple for the top position. Sand got into Falcon's mouth and he hissed. He aimed a knee up at his twin's stomach and shoved him off. Lark wheezed and slammed a small fist against Falcon's chest. He was leaner but the strike still hurt. Falcon panted for breath.
"Boys!" Mamae's worried voice lanced through both of them like a lightning bolt. Lark shoved off of Falcon and brushed sand off his pants.
"Mamae," he winced. Magpie actually had hold of Sparrow's hand, helping her toddle along the sand as Merrill strode forward with her staff to inspect their bruises. After the staff passed glowing over their limbs, and their small hurts were healed, Falcon lowered his head, accepting Merrill's somewhat sheepish railing. She didn't know how to do it and it sounded like she was going to break out with an "I love you" anyways, despite their scuffle, and it not being her fault.
"I don't know what I'm going to do with you two! I need your….we need your help! Isabela saddling me with all four of you and then…." Merrill bit her lip, tears filling her eyes and Falcon was lanced with more guilt. She was thinking of Papa. How could she not be? She wasn't even gone a few days and Mama gone on her ship less than that. This was all too new.
"We're sorry, Mamae. It won't happen again," Falcon promised. He took his mamae's hand and squeezed it.
Lark caught his eye and gave a curt nod. "Yes, very sorry."
Mamae squeezed Falcon's hand back and pressed her other palm against Lark's cheek. They looked so much like Hawke it hurt. "Well, good! Or I'll have to punish you both, the lot of you!"
"Yes, Mamae," Lark winced.
As the twins reassured their mamae, Magpie shook her head, somewhat disgusted with them. Their mamae needed their help and their dumb ol' fight had put her in charge of the baby. But Sparrow was being oddly quiet, her green eyes welling with tears in odd intervals. Mama was gone. Chasing after their Papa. It wasn't a good place for them to be. They'd hardly eaten or slept. It was a downright waking nightmare.
So Magpie squeezed her sister's pudgy hand and helped her along. "Easy, Sparrow. See, you're doing fine," she muttered quietly. Sparrow's eyes widened at her sister's words. She rarely spoke and she knew it. She mumbled and clutched her hand.
"Pa," she gave a small wail. Magpie squeezed her hand.
"I don't know," Magpie answered. The confusion on the toddler's face made her heart feel too big for her chest. Magpie swallowed. Falcon carried Papa's helm under one arm and knelt to pick the baby up with one arm. She let him collect Sparrow. Lark made a noise beside him and Falcon reluctantly tossed him the helmet. Lark held it between both hands, staring down. Then he took his mamae's arm and guided her back to the captain's house.
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A couple weeks of travel and Hawke neared the mountain range she knew Skyhold to be in. There were a few well-worn paths heading up into the heights and not so oddly, a few soldiers and scouts, even common folk, more than likely seeking an audience with the Inquisitor.
Hawke sold Buttercup to a soldier and followed the gaggle of villagers up the stone pathways. Angela doggedly followed, eager to get to where they were going. Hawke reached down to pat his head. More than once, she wished Angela had stayed on the island. Her pups would need his strength. But at the very least, Hawke was glad Angela was stubborn enough to push to go. She wasn't completely alone, and she already felt that. Angela barked and rubbed at her side. His head was higher than Hawke's hip and she almost stumbled.
Buttercup's large eyes almost made Hawke feel guilty, then her new owner led her away. Hawke settled her hand on Angela's tall head, rubbing his ears. The higher they climbed, the shorter her breath came. But as the group of soldiers and commoners ascended up the stony pathway, she became used to the atmosphere and breathed easier.
A few turns around rocky outcrops the higher they went an hour or so in, and Hawke was startled at the long stone archway connecting the castle's entrance to the mountainside. The castle waited, poised like a drop hanging off the edge of a leaf up in the sky. The engineering looked precarious at a distance, as if a fortress weren't meant to be built there. But it was staying and intended to. Hawke felt her vertigo sway as she crossed the long archway, the commoners chattering excitedly. Soldiers in the Inquisition armor waited at intervals, long spears or swords held. Their eyes moved over the supplicants, but they allowed all to press up to the open gates. A few soldiers halted everyone, asking a few questions and going through bags.
But it seemed all were being allowed in to placate the Inquisitor with their concerns. Hawke patted Angela's head and tugged her cloak forward, so the long sweep of it would cover the Champion's insignia. She clutched the strap strung over one shoulder carrying her long sword.
"Halt, messere. What is your name?" one of the soldiers, carrying a scrap of parchment asked, quill poised to jot down a note about her.
Hawke lied. "Seran."
"Serah….Seran." The man frowned as if realizing how strange that sounded. But he went on. "And what is your business with the Inquisition?"
"I'd like to seek Inquisitor Cadash's aide with a dispute at my manor," Hawke went on. Lying felt unnatural, but she didn't want to be recognized. Not by strangers, that was.
The soldier nodded to himself, quill scratching over the parchment. "Most do. Well, move to the great hall. There'll be a line, and you'll have to wait your turn. Understood?"
"Yes," Hawke nodded. She strode forward past the front gates, the villagers behind her moving up to add their name to his list. Her boots sank into patches of grass oddly and she stared down. In a fortress built high up in the sky, it was just unexpected that anything grew here. Angela sniffed along as she moved past a few merchants hawking wares under their tents, toward a set of stone steps. The great hall had to be that way.
As Hawke moved up to the next level in the grass outside the fortress walls, a short red-haired dwarf caught her attention. She would have overlooked him, had he not been wearing a jaunty red tunic, open at the chest of course, leather overcoat half unbuttoned. He turned and Hawke recognized Varric. He still was clean-shaven to defy his roots, and his hair was tied back in a topknot. He was ambling along, dodging scouts and workers, a pipe dangling out of the corner of his mouth. Then Varric turned and their eyes met.
Hawke was surprised how quickly she moved to greet him, heart glad when a smile stretched the dwarf's lips. "Hawke! You're here!" he said.
Soon they were shaking hands, then Hawke found Varric wrapping his arms around her waist, hugging her affectionately. She laughed and clapped him on the back. It was like the fall of Kirkwall had never happened, and they would head to the Hanged Man together.
"I got your message, my friend!" Hawke exclaimed. Varric laughed, and they squeezed tight, before he let her go, looking up at her face.
"I can't thank you enough for coming….come on. Let's find a quiet spot," he suggested. Hawke nodded, seeing the wisdom in that.
"I didn't think the ex-Champion would be welcomed most anywhere," Hawke admitted. Varric lead her across the grassy courtyard toward an adjoining building. The door was open and lute music wafted out. Before they could enter, a bald elf leaning on a staff ambled past. Hawke side-stepped politely, but he stopped to chat up Varric with a curt question.
Varric always took the friendly approach to a situation and decided to introduce her. So Hawke had to assume he was one of the Inquisitor's close advisors or allies. "Well, Solas, you caught me. May I introduce Marian Hawke to you?"
"A pleasure." A bit of kindness couldn't hurt. The elf blinked as Hawke shook his hand and seemed to mull over her name.
"Hawke? The Champion of Kirkwall?"
"Ex-champion, please," Hawke winced. As her fingers drifted back from Solas's, she had to blink away the flash images that had permeated into her mind. A deep sleeping place in the ground, roots twining over a pale figure as he lay unmoving and dreaming….
Likewise, Solas was frowning and Hawke wondered what he'd glimpsed from HER. He mumbled something in elvish and Hawke shrugged.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," she answered in his language and Solas's eyes widened.
"You speak elvish?" he asked in the common tongue. Hawke nodded.
"My second mate is Dalish."
Solas's face darted in a frown over that for some reason. Disgust? Pity? Why? He was elvhenan as well. But he had no facial tattoos. Perhaps he had been born in human surroundings like other half-elves. Solas forced a smile.
"My apologies, I didn't realize. Just goes to show you can't judge a book by its cover."
Varric laughed. "You should have read mine on our doings in Kirkwall!"
"Well, I'd be quick to give word to the Inquisitor, or Josephine. Cassandra will be cross indeed when she finds out the Champion is here," Solas said. Hawke tried not to wince.
"I'm ready to meet the Inquisitor," she declared. Varric slapped her on the lower back.
"And we will. I think we need a moment of quiet. Before the Seeker seeks our heads," Varric offered. Solas shrugged.
"As you wish," he said non-committedly and went on his way. Hawke darted a glance after him as she followed Varric into the somewhat raucous tavern.
"Wil he be alright?" she asked. Angela padded after, panting as Varric led them up a few flights of wooden steps. Varric chuckled as they passed the second landing and moved to the third.
"Baldy is never quite what'd you'd call 'alright.' But he's good in a pinch." Varric paused, listening to the singer on the main floor. "I swear the singer's chatting up Sera with that song. No matter," he said. Hawke shrugged.
"Who's that?"
"One of our best archers. Also an in with the Red Jenny's," Varric said in an off-hand manner. "Come on. Let's get higher up."
Hawke followed him to the third rising. "You always were an odd dwarf, Varric."
"Only that I know we're not going to fall up into the sky. And it's quieter up here. Come on."
On the third rising, a slim tall man with shaggy blond hair watched them with gaunt large eyes. His pale gaze made gooseflesh rise on Hawke's arms. Angela didn't seem to mind and bounded forward to nudge him for a pet. The man jumped, but then hesitantly pet the mabari.
"Good boy," he said. Then he genuinely smiled. "You ARE a good boy!"
"Hey, kid," Varric greeted him casually. The man smiled.
"Hi, Varric." He stared curiously at Hawke. She offered a hand.
"Hawke."
"Cole." The young man shook her hand hesitantly, almost as if he'd never done it before. He stared at their joined hands, then slowly let go, peering at her intently. "Do not worry if you can help it."
Hawke stammered. "I beg your pardon?"
Cole nodded, as if sure of whatever it was he'd seen in her face. "Your nest is very full. Two mothers. Four chicks. They're so very loud, singing of anger and sorrow. It hurts to be away from them."
Hawke stared at the gaunt young man, mouth slightly agape. "How did you!..."
Varric interjected himself smoothly, and Hawke got the feeling the strange young man was used to his help. "Don't mind him. Cole sees what most can't."
Hawke, however, felt unclean, as if she'd been peered at while naked in the bath. Such a look of vulnerability almost into her soul. Was Cole reading her mind? He could see her family? He seemed to pick from her thoughts as easily as one picked a bouquet.
Cole went on, thinking to soothe her. "You shouldn't blame yourself…..he would have escaped without you!"
Corypheus. It had to be. Hawke shouldered her long sword and tried to find even footing back to reality. "Thank you? I think?"
Varric cleared his throat. "Go on, Cole. I'll take Hawke from here."
Cole nodded, agreeing with him. "Yes. You are her friend."
Varric opened the door leading out to the adjoining parapets and she took a deep breath of the clear cold air as the door shut behind them.
"Strange company you keep in the Inquisition."
"You're one to talk with your old party members. At least you kept two as your mates," Varric teased, trying to settle Hawke's discomfort. She did smile at that. "So, was that true? FOUR pups?"
Hawke eased back into the comfort of thinking of her family. She swallowed past the guilt to boast of them. "He was right! You met the twins. Magpie was next, born at sea. And that was a strange thing in itself…"
Varric produced a small bottle from his coat pocket. He uncorked and took a swig, offering it to Hawke. She set her pack on the parapet and leaned against the stone wall, accepting it. "Strange to have gotten another child on the Rivaini? I'd think she'd be used to it."
Hawke had to laugh with her friend. It felt good to again.
"Well, something bad had happened to Bela when she was pregnant. We had gotten into a brawl and…" Hawke coughed into her fist. "It was my fault. She'd gotten hurt, but a spirit that Merrill had helped wanted to help us…."
Varric nodded. Magic doings were not that far-fetched there, after all. "Was it able to?"
"It did. It transferred the babe from Bela to Merrill. That was strange in itself," Hawke admitted. "But Merrill hadn't conceived. She was able to have my pup anyhow…."
A wistful good smile spread across Varric's face. "I'm glad Daisy ended up with you too. She needed a good mate."
"I just hope she wants me back after all this. Bela too," Hawke admitted. She pulled hard on the bottle and handed it back. Varric loped over to the edge of the wall and called out to a messenger.
"She will. Hey, boy. Give word to the Inquisitor to meet me up here at her leisure. And tell her I have a visitor she'll want to meet."
"At once, Varric," the man bowed his head and took off. Varric saluted him off and turned back to Hawke. He stroked Angela's head. The mabari was of a height with him.
"Isabela gave you her heart. Even if she offers her anger first, remember that once this is all said and done," Varric declared. Hawke gave a soft smile.
"That was nicely said. Write that in your next story."
"Oh, I intend to," Varric drawled. "Now, the fourth pup?"
Hawke smiled. She dug in her tunic pocket and pulled out a brooch. She opened it and showed off the miniature painted of her family. She felt bad for nabbing it, but she DID need to see their faces while she was gone. It was all she had at the moment when touch and embrace were far away.
"Sparrow. The smallest baby we had. Isabela carried her…..no spirits this time. After our miracle baby, that was most welcome," Hawke declared. "So small but so loud. Magpie doesn't know what to think of her. But I hope she'll love her same as I do."
"And the twins?" Varric asked. "How are they getting on with your big household?"
"So good," Hawke admitted. "They're getting stronger all the time. And they help with their sisters."
"I hope they continue to do so," Varric said. He took a sip from the bottle, watching the sun lope toward the horizon. "Good lads, they are…"
"Varric?" a feminine voice called out. Hawke stood at attention as Varric moved forward to greet the dwarf woman in a finely stitched doublet. Her outfit spoke of wealth and Hawke had to conclude she was the new Inquisitor. Angela leapt to his feet, approaching to sniff the newcomer who allowed it.
"Inquisitor. I'm pleased to introduce Marian Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall," Varric declared, spreading a hand toward her. Hawke stepped forward, hoping she didn't look too tired from her travels.
"Though I don't use that title much anymore. Inquisitor," Hawke greeted formally, offering her hand to shake. Cadash's shake was firm and hard, she noted. She was not a stranger to battle.
"I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus," Varric offered. Hawke nodded.
"Well. It seems we have much to talk about," Cadash blinked blue eyes up at her. Hawke leaned against the parapet beside her to match her height.
"About the darkspawn's revival? Yes….. though you dropped half a mountain of him. What I'd done pales in comparison…"
Varric searched his coat's pockets for a match and lit up his pipe as Hawke spoke with the Inquisitor. The sun was a few hours off from setting and there was a nice golden sheen surrounding them. They were safe high up here in Skyhold. He hoped it would remain that way.
Isabela flung into the tavern, both arms sweeping the double doors open wide. Craven, Mel and a few of her sailors flocked after. Their captain's mood had been erratic ever since tying up at the docks, and she ordered a drink, staring glumly down into it. That she'd still be in shock despite her fits of anger surprised no one.
Craven was just ordering a drink when he heard the talking beside them. "Champion? Kirkwall has no Champion! They're trying to right clean up and that woman fled like a bitch with her tail between her legs…."
Mel met his eyes and started when Isabela turned to the alpha that had said that, fist flying for his face. The man went down off his stool, legs over his head and his friends jumped in place.
"Fuck you! Get off me! Fuckin' blighter…." Isabela cursed, trying to break out of her sailor's hold. One of the alpha's friends aimed a punch, her detractors had to drop her, and Isabela ducked, then flung her fist up at his jaw. Craven sighed and picked up a chair, throwing it bodily into the group of men. They went down hard.
Mel and one of the betas each took an arm and dragged Isabela back, kicking mightily between them. She was yelling curses at the alpha's group of friends. Many were sprawled, holding their heads. The others were rendered unconscious. Mel met her lover's eyes and nodded. Craven flipped a silver to the innkeeper for a room and the sailors got their captain in.
"You should rest, Isabela! We've been moving non-stop since dawn," Mel pleaded.
Fire crackled in Isabela's eyes. "Not until I find Hawke.'
Craven lent his voice. "Cap'n, we all need food and rest. You most of all. How can we hope to find her without any sleep?"
Isabela's shoulders slouched but her aura still crackled with energy. "I need a drink…"
It took a few tankards of ale, but their captain finally passed out, head in Mel's lap. She had excused the other sailors to find their own room, and Craven had stayed because Mel had stayed. Isabela's features were distorted in her sleep, and she looked far from restful. Craven touched his lover's calf where he could reach her without jostling Isabela.
"What else can we do?" he whispered to her. Mel's eyes were very sad as she surveyed the passed-out pirate in her lap. She stroked her long dark hair where it spilled out beneath her bandana.
"Be there for her. Help her. She commands us and it is her ship. But we have to save her from herself," Mel murmured.
Craven agreed.
End for now.
End notes: I love Skyhold, trying to get the layout written well. Like the story, drop a review. It only takes a second and I love reading them. We're in it! In it to win it! LOL. Oh and Seran is a character from Mass Effect. Seemed a good cover name. Stay strong, my lovelies.
Pen, 9/8/2019