Author's Disclaimer: I do not own anything belonging to "Dragon Age 2/3."
Author's notes: At this point Hawke's been gone a year. Sparrow would be in toddler age and some toddlers still get a bottle once in awhile with more solid food. Just pointing that out. Anything CharlieBarrow came up with came from her. On with the show.
Thanks for the reviews, peeps.
"Catching the Wind"
Chapter forty-two "Waiting for the Fall"
Hawke twisted in the sheets of her thin bed. The rowdiness of the nearby makeshift tavern had finally died down and soldiers had stopped sparring in the courtyard hours ago. The moon was high above Skyhold and only the whispered conversations of guards on the parapets could be heard if you strained hard enough.
The Inquisitor's party had come back two days ago, and Hawke had gotten the news. Corypheus's forces were massing at Adamant Fortress and Commander Cullen was moving soldiers out to meet the rest of their forces when they met up there. A big battle was coming, and Hawke hoped it would come to an end; whatever came, her death or Corypheus's, it would be over. Wouldn't it?
She had been so nervous and upset, she could barely eat. Varric jesting with her barely got her to force down a few bites at dinner in the tavern but then his admirers and other soldiers crowded for another story from the front. Cadash had taken him with her small party almost every time so he had more tales to tell.
It was fine to listen to, but Hawke was worried. She was resolved to bring battle to Corypheus, but she didn't want to die. She wanted to go home. She wanted to beg forgiveness of Isabela, who no doubt was angry with her. She had dreamt of it. She wanted to see Merrill, wanted to hug her pups again. But all Hawke had were dreams. She was deeply asleep, and she had tumbled headlong into a dream of longing.
In the dream she was in now, Hawke was moving quietly through the captain's house on the island. Her footsteps were so silent, she felt like she was floating on the floorboards. It had been a whole year since she had come to Skyhold, and regret weighed her heart down.
A peek into the pup's room and they were sleeping; they were well. The twins looked even bigger if that was possible and Hawke had the feeling she'd be looking up at them in a few years. The baby was fast asleep and so was her mage princess. Hawke sighed and moved into the captain's bedroom. Her mates were waiting for her and she was welcomed into the bed.
Hawke sighed as she was pressed on either side by her mates and her arms went around them.
"Do tell how you've been, sweet thing," Isabela teased, and Hawke felt her heart lighten. Merrill's eyes glowed at her and she knew she was loved.
A scrape of boot on stone above her room and Hawke's eyes snapped open. The guard that had slipped on the parapets above cursed suddenly in the still of the night and was silent. Hawke blinked, looking around the small dark room. She heard panting and Angela was pushing at her leg through the sheets.
"I'm okay, boy," Hawke murmured. Her eyes were crusty with sleep and she scrubbed her sleeve over her face. AS she reached for a candle and matches, Hawke felt the crushing disappointment of reality descend on her mind and mood. Her mates were far away, so were her pups.
"Whose fault is that? Whose? Come on…." Hawke reprimanded herself under her breath. In the dim candle's light, she found her trousers and stepped into them, and found a fresh tunic. She left it untucked and stepped into her boots. Running a hand through her tousled short hair, Hawke paused at the door to let Angela out with her. She watched the mabari scamper to the grass to find a place to mark. When he was done, he scampered back and followed Hawke as she ascended a nearby set of stone stairs to the parapets.
"Champion," one of the soldiers murmured in greeting. Hawke waved a hand and walked slowly along the parapets. The early morning breeze was bitterly cold, but dawn was soon in coming. The air was lightening in shades of grey. Angela's panting breaths broke up the silence of the coming dawn.
"I'm not that…not any more…" Hawke muttered. The soldier saluted her, wincing at her response but Hawke moved up higher. The air was thinner up here and she took in deep gulping breaths, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart.
A year. An entire year of scouting, and fighting, and missing her family. An entire year of not seeing her pups growing and her mate's touch. Who knows if they even wanted her back? Hawke hadn't abandoned them, not really. But she worried her actions would be seen that way.
"I'm sorry….I'm so sorry…" she murmured aloud. Angela gave a short bark and rubbed against her hip. Her hand fell onto his head and scratched his ears as the sun began to rise.
A door on the upper landing opened and Varric stumbled out. He was checking his tunic pockets for matches, his pipe dangling from his clean-shaven lips. Hawke gave him a wry smile.
"Long night?"
"You could say that, Hawke," Varric drawled. He found a match and struck it on the side of the stone wall next to him. It flared up and he cupped it to his pipe, taking a few puffs. He looked up Hawke's tall form to her solemn expression. "That bad, huh?"
"If your heart were outside your body and far away, yes," Hawke said. Varric grunted. He blew a few smoke rings toward the rising sun.
"I thought I was the writer here," he complained lightly. Hawke gave a joyless laugh and leaned against the parapets edge.
"We'll be done with this, won't we?"
"And then you'll go home. Which is not here," Varric guessed. "And good for you, then."
"I want to just leave now. Hurry home to my mates and pups. But I've been gone so long already. And we're almost done with Corypheus."
"Adamant Fortress," Varric promised. "Then it should be finished. For good or ill."
"I hope so," Hawke wished.
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"Papa….." Magpie's eyes slit open, and she winced at the sunlight filtering through the half open curtains. She had the strangest dream. Papa was home, walking down the hallway. She had seen her from her bed, peeking her dark head in the doorframe to peek at her and the baby. But no, it had been a dream. Papa was still gone.
Sparrow shifted in her crib and wailed aloud suddenly. Magpie swung her bare feet to the wooden floor and stood, her nightgown falling to her knees. She padded to the crib and reached through the bars to pat her sister's hand. Sparrow's wide green eyes lit on her and she grabbed her fingers tightly.
The door to their room opened and Lark was there, hair tousled from sleep, his tunic open partway down his thin chest as he struggled to tuck the hem of his shirt into his trousers. He was barefoot and the sleepy-eyed tall boy almost tripped as he stumbled in.
"I got her, Mags," Lark murmured. He paused to ruffle her long hair and Magpie grinned. Sparrow took in her brother and wriggled her chubby legs. She babbled happily when he collected her into his arms, taking her to the living room. Mamae met them from the kitchen, carrying a freshly heated bottle in one hand and a cloth in the other. Sparrow cried out loudly when she saw the bottle and Merrill took her, propping her in the crook of one arm so she could feed her. It was a home-brewed formula made from goat's milk. Isabela had run out of milk months ago, so they'd come up with a solution as Sparrow got introduced to more solid foods.
Heated up, it didn't taste so bad. Lark knew, he had sampled it out of curiosity once.
Lark perched next to his elf mother to watch. Magpie shyly came closer and Merrill beamed at her. Really, she was happy with how the pups were carrying on, how helpful Lark was being. Isabela had left a few days ago and she had chosen to take Falcon as her second. She knew Lark had been disappointed, but he made up for it in helping her take care of the girls. Really, his temperament was better suited for it. At least out at sea, Isabela could put the angry boy to work and wear his mood out.
"Mags, we should collect more fireroot. We could use it as a backup should we need a healing herb," Merrill suggested quietly. Magpie's eyes were wide, but she nodded. Lark found a comb and was gently combing out her long hair. Merrill gave the slender boy a wry look. "And you may as well be using that on yourself, too, lad. You look a fright."
Lark giggled, running a hand through his own black hair. "Yes, Mamae. I will."
"Good lad," Merrill said sweetly. Sparrow lifted her mouth from the bottle and gave a sharp cry. Merrill lifted her to burp then set her down to toddle across the floor. "Oh, she's gonna wanna play all day, huh?"
"Let's go outside with her, Mamae," Lark suggested. Merrill laughed.
"Make sure she doesn't eat any sand and I'll heat up some stew for you and Mags. Go on," Merrill said. Lark opened the door and Sparrow immediately made a beeline toward it. Her short jerky steps were fast, and Magpie hurried behind her. Lark nodded. His little sister met his eyes and shrugged.
"Too fast," she said simply. Sparrow touched the doorjamb, leaning against it as she moved to go outside. She gave a sharp squeal.
Some of the sailors outside called out a greeting and the toddler grinned happily, walking toward them. Lark caught up and held his hand out for her to grab and steady her movements. He'd just have to wait for Mama and his brother to return. Hopefully there'd be news of Papa.
Lark shielded his eyes with one hand. Hopefully.
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Magpie cupped her small hands together. She blew on her cupped hands as if she were cold, but she wasn't. It was very warm out and sweat beaded to her brow. Her child-sized robe had been lovingly sewn with elven runes by her mamae, and the hem dropped over the tops of her shoes.
Magpie was trying to cup a spark of magic between her palms and what she had managed to conjure.
She had watched her Mamae make an image before; she'd called it an illusion, but it was someone remembered. Magpie only knew she had no idea who the tiny white-haired elf hovering between Mamae's palms was, but her elven mother had gazed at the woman lovingly.
Papa was between her hands. An image of her papa, tall and smiling between her chubby fingers. Magpie took another look, and tears filled her eyes.
"What you got there?" one of the sailors asked from nearby. Magpie's palms pressed together, and her image vanished. Magpie sighed. Regrettably it was gone.
She just shook her head at the smiling sailor and took off along the beach. She picked up her staff and made her way to the forest. Lark was there, scraping a knife against the bark of a tree trunk. He sheathed his knife when he noticed his little sister staring.
"Mags, hey. I was just…."
Magpie flicked her eyes to the tree. Her brother had just been slicing long gashes as if he were thinking with his actions. No words or pictures. It very much indicated his own troubled mind and all the responsibility that had crashed onto his thin shoulders. She cleared her throat.
"Does Mamae need me?" Lark asked. Magpie blinked. She shook her head. She stood straight and cupped both hands together.
"Look," she said simply. And concentrated. Lark's brows lifted as his sister manifested a clear image of a tall dark-haired warrior woman. Their papa was giving her roguish grin toward them. The image was so static and real, Lark half expected the miniature woman to salute them with two fingers to her brow or something. It was very surprising.
"Wow! Mags, that's great!" Lark grinned. He hunkered down on his heels in front of his sister, peering at the image. Magpie gave a small gasp of shock and pulled her hands closer to her chest.
"Don't!...Not perfect," she said by way of explanation. Lark understood and pulled his hand back. Anything to let his sister keep her concentration and the magical image of their papa.
"I didn't know you could do that," he said. Magpie gave a shy smile.
"Me neither," she said.
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Isabela sighed as Falcon stood on his tiptoes beside her. The line of petitioners ahead of her on the stone bridge was long and the Inquisition soldiers were taking their time questioning everyone before allowing entry to the courtyard.
A peek into the courtyard told Isabela the main forces of the Inquisition were gone from the castle. A token force of soldiers were left behind to question petitioners. Some were allowed in, to file their grievances or concerns with the Inquisitor's social liaison, but others had been turned away. Falcon stared as a man in merchant's robes kicked at the rocks of the pathway and stalked past.
"Leave it to me, Fal," Isabela murmured. Her son nodded. When the head soldier at the gates was open to her, Isabela strode up to give false names. Falcon just nodded and accepted the story. After a few more questions, the two of them were let in with instructions to report to the main hall and meet with Lady Montilyet.
"Good story, Ma," Falcon muttered. Isabela gave him a slow wink, but the two of them kept scanning their eyes around at who was left. Many of the Inquisitor's inner party were gone, only a token garrison of the dwarven scouts remained, but they moved as if gathering supplies for a trip to meet the army.
"We'll get an answer yet," Isabela said. There was another line of people ahead of them, humans, elves and dwarves alike. Even a few isolated Qunari were in line. Isabela reflected they must have left the Qun to be out so openly and on their own business. The beautiful noblewoman standing before the Inquisitor's dais waited, ledger in hand. A candle was melted at the top of it, but unlit as they had natural daylight still.
"Next?" Montilyet cast her gaze to Isabela curiously. Isabela walked up a few steps and gave a bow at the waist, arms spread in a grand gesture. She gave her false name, but Falcon was amused she kept her title of captain. Well, it would do.
As his mother bandied words with the liaison, a few things were found out. Yes, about almost all of the Inquisitor's forces were in the field. Montilyet wouldn't say as to where. But something big was happening. All of the special agents were out. And that included guests of the Inquisitor's party, namely Varric Tethras. He was gone too, with all his friends.
Isabela bit her lip. That more than meant Hawke. When Falcon opened his mouth to protest, she took his arm.
"Thank you, my lady. Please convey my regards to the Inquisitor."
"But of course," Montilyet agreed. She scratched a note on her ledger with her quill. Falcon stalked off with his mother.
"What does that mean? Papa's gone?" Falcon muttered. Isabela slung an arm around his neck and hugged him close. She felt him trembling against her. Slowly, he relaxed. Isabela sighed.
"To battle. I hope she comes back in one piece…."
Falcon swallowed. He knew his mother was keeping her words light for his sake, but he could see the worry in her eyes. He followed her to the stone bridge outside the castle gates toward the mountain paths.
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The sailing back home was quiet. Isabela was worried over where Hawke was and what she could be doing. But she was also worried for her son. Falcon had been sullenly silent ever since they had hiked down out of Skyhold fortress.
He did whatever Craven or Mel asked of him, but other than running errands and tying knots, he was visibly shaken with anger.
Isabela sighed. She pushed off the wheel platform and made her way to the deck. Her son was tying off knots and counting them with Mel. The omega smiled up at her and brushed Falcon's shoulder with a friendly hand before moving off. The boy scowled up at his mother through his dark bangs. Isabela waited.
"Are we really just going back home?" Falcon finally asked. Isabela nodded. Falcon bit his lip and worried it with his teeth before firing off his real fear. "Why didn't we wait for her? She had to come back to the castle at some point!"
"Who knows how long the Inquisition will play at war. We could have been waiting there for months," Isabela said sensibly. Falcon pouted. The pirate sighed and chucked two fingers under his chin. "I'm sorry, son. I had hoped…."
Falcon looked up, seeing the bare disappointment across his mother's features and felt horrible. He reached for her hand and squeezed. "No, I'm sorry, Mama. Don't worry….we can go back, right?"
Isabela's lips quirked into a useless smile, but she nodded. "Yes. We will."
Craven ambled by, carrying loops or coiled rope over one broad shoulder. "Give me a hand, laddie?" he called. Falcon nodded to his mother and chased after the sailor. Isabela ambled back up to the wheel platform and unlatched the lock, taking it in hand. She sighed as she brooded quietly to herself. She felt more tired all of a sudden, tired with a dash of irritability. And she was so blasted hot.
As the afternoon yawned to twilight, Isabela felt overheated to the point of being feverish. She brushed her wrist beneath her bandana. No raised temperature. But she WAS sweating. When her belly began coiling in cramps, Isabela knew her heat was on her. Her mood darkened as she cursed Hawke in her head. She'd already suffered three heats through that long year, and she and Merrill had lain, incapacitated for days, crying or cursing. Trying to relieve themselves hadn't worked; they needed their mate and their bodies knew it.
Isabela muttered a curse aloud and jerked the wheel to the right. Their island was coming on, and they'd be home by dark. All the better. She could greet her pups and thank Lark for all he did, and then have Falcon help him as she went to her room for a few days. Isabela could only hope Merrill wasn't coming on her own heat.
The sailors wisely avoided Isabela as they helped with laying anchor and readying to go to shore. Falcon sniffed the air in her direction then blushed. Isabela wondered how much of heats her sons knew about, but her son followed the sailor's example and tried not to anger her. Isabela was grateful.
The sailors she'd left to guard her household were lined on the beach with her family as they rowed to shore. Falcon hopped out and helped pull her boat to the sand. Lark rushed forward and helped lift her and Isabela gave a smile, collecting her second son for a big hug. Lark grinned at her, talking about what they'd done while she was gone and Isabela cupped his cheek, thankful he didn't ask where his papa was.
Her absence made it clear they hadn't found Hawke as it were. Merrill's anguished eyes met hers and Isabela didn't have to scent her to know she was coming into heat also. She held Sparrow propped on one hip, but her eyes had a glassy sheen as if she were thinking of Hawke and more heated times. Isabela couldn't blame her. Being with their mate was a distant memory but a welcome one as her body craved touch.
"Kitten," Isabela said, cupping Merrill's chin to look at her. She shivered and gazed at Isabela, as if hoping Hawke would suddenly manifest. The look of disappointment on Merrill's face was too much for even Isabela. She gave her a one-armed hug and took Sparrow from her. The toddler giggled and clutched at her neck, babbling happily. Magpie shyly hugged her knee and Isabela tried to relax. But she was just so blasted hot. "Shall we go inside?"
The pups eagerly moved with her, the sailors on the beach going about their tasks for the night. Isabela's eyes roamed over the beach as it curved away from the sailor's houses. "Whose crew is that?" she asked idly.
"That's the Sea Dragon. They just came to shore a few days ago and their captain wants to ask your leave to stay further," Lark said helpfully. His mamae looked like she was going to buckle to the floor, her legs were so wobbly. Isabela put Sparrow into his arms and helped steady the elf.
"Good….very good… Boys, would you start dinner, please?" Isabela said. She and Merrill almost ran to the master bedroom.
"It's coming on again, isn't it?" she panted aloud, tugging her tunic open down the front. Merrill was unfastening her clothes and whimpered in response.
"It's bad. It's going to be worse than last time," Merrill worried. Sweat beaded on her brow, making her bangs stick to her forehead. Isabela steadied her elbow as they climbed onto the bed.
"Damn Hawke," Isabela cursed. "We need her! It already hurts…'
"Maybe…." Merrill's hand ran along her thigh and Isabela's brow raised despite herself. "Maybe we could help each other? 'Til she gets home that is…."
"Shy kitten," Isabela sighed. She had love and affection for Merrill, and even though they hadn't mated each other, their marks were shared by the same alpha. She did love Merrill and really anything they could do would lessen the ache, wouldn't it? "I'd do anything to ease your pain."
Merrill blushed and pressed her face to Isabela's shoulder shyly. She lifted her head and kissed Isabela slowly, testing her willingness, then with growing passion when the pirate kissed her back. It was good, but it wasn't Hawke. The look they gave each other conveyed that dismay. But they had a grasp at passion and both women clung to it and each other. "And here I'd say the same to you…. Bela…."
Isabela lifted Merrill's face in her palms and kissed her longingly. Their tongues twined slowly. "Please….anything…. I need it."
Merrill's face was flushed. "I do too…."
"Well then…." Isabela tried to keep her old teasing in her voice as she eased Merrill onto the mattress. "Best show me what Hawke taught you then."
The blush on Merrill's face was worth it.
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A few hours later and Isabela stood from the bed, naked, legs trembling. Her inner thighs were wet with her release and Merrill twined on her side her curves open to the pirate.
"Where are you going, Bela?" she asked plaintively. Her tentative tone tore Isabela's heart. And suddenly she saw what Hawke must have fallen in love with.
"Out for a minute. I have to settle this…thing with this new captain," Isabela said lamely. She collected a wet washcloth in the washroom and cleaned herself as best she could. Merrill curled on her side one hand cradled between her thighs. She whimpered, and Isabela's heart panged with guilt.
"Can't that wait? I need you…"
'I need you.' That echoed with Isabela. She loved Hawke. Merrill did too. But they had been together as long as with Hawke and really there wasn't that much a leap from affection to love. She did love Merrill in her own way. Always wanted to protect her. But her body was roiling, rebelling with her thoughts and what her heart wanted with her absent mate.
'Find what you want. Go on! Hurry!' Isabela's traitorous body seemed to scream silently. Isabela dressed quickly and moved to the bedroom door.
"I have to….I'll be back," she said lamely. The big eyes Merrill cast her were full of longing and a touch of hurt. Isabela couldn't help feeling bad as she ducked through her house, lust broiling through her and urging her to hurry.
"Mama…."
Isabela whirled to see Lark watching her open the front door, the tall boy, sniffing and guessing her intention. Worry was in his green eyes. "I have to go, son…."
"Mama!" he called. But Isabela was gone. She tore out of the captain's house and down onto the beach. Bare feet turned up the sand as she came across the bonfires of the new crew that had cast upon her shore.
"Captain Isabela!" She was greeted happily by all sides. Some of the betas sniffed with interest, and a few alphas tried to catch her eye and engage her. Isabela swept through them to the captain, a thin fellow with a long beard. His eyes lit with interest and Isabela was pleased to scent he was alpha. It didn't take him long to usher her to his make-shift hut, alone.
Negotiations were the last thing on Isabela's mind as she climbed onto his lap. The man strained to tear open his clothing and tug her smallclothes off. He was unmated, unmarked and Isabela nipped at his throat as he readied to enter her. As he was poised to part her, a pang so hard it was painful ripped through her and Isabela jerked back. Her throat burned, or more precisely, where Hawke had marked her burned. The teeth imprints seethed, and Isabela yelped, feeling as if she were burned by Hawke's disappointment itself. The captain panted against her.
"What's wrong?" he yelped, trying to thrust between her thighs. Isabela pushed at his shoulders, even as she closed her thighs. What WAS wrong with her? Here was an alpha, erect and aching to push inside her and quench her passions. But her mating mark burned. This felt wrong. It wasn't unheard of for mated pairs to seek pleasure elsewhere, but all the stories of burning mating marks Isabela had heard had to have been exaggerated. They were just old wive's tales. Weren't they?
"Get off me!" Isabela shoved to her feet and pushed her tunic down to cover everything. The captain panted from the ground.
"What….Captain Isabela!" he yelled. Isabela tore out of the hut and down the beach. Her footsteps took her back to her home and she tried to come in the back door silently. Falcon was sitting at the small square table and his dark head jerked up. He stared at his mother, his face a mixture of hurt and disappointment.
"I'm okay! I'm okay…" Isabela promised. Falcon didn't relent to answer but his eyes watched her as she made her way back to his mamae in the master's bedroom. Merrill was laying gasping, naked, and trying to pleasure herself with her hand. She whimpered and cried and Isabela's heart tore. Her mating mark cooled down to a normal temperature and a moment of rightness stilled her heart.
She did belong here, with her mate's other choice. They both belonged to her and to each other. Isabela undressed and rolled into Merrill's waiting arms.
"What'd you do?" Merrill whimpered, gazing up at her with worried eyes. Isabela kissed her brow and then her lips.
"Nothing. I promise. Except for what we do…. Nothing," Isabela promised. She slid her hand between them and parted Merrill's wet cave. The sweet cry Merrill gave against her shoulder was rewarding.
End for now
End notes: Hey I felt like going this way. At least Hawke's mates are getting along. Like it, drop a review!
Pen 12/28/2019