A/N: This final chapter was a very cathartic experience. I apparently really channelled Heath Wingwhit here, because this is easily the longest writing I have ever done. Also, I LOVE Aveline and Isabela. I get a lot of comments how they would never happen. But why not? Against all beliefs, they do not actually hate each other. In any case, please do enjoy, and thank you all for your generous reviews!
Aveline felt exposed and vulnerable. In general these days, but particularly this morning. It was a cool day outside of Kirkwall, with a stiff breeze that smelled of pine and damp earth. Dead Man's Pass was one of several passes crossing the Vimmark Mountains north of the city, leading into the mainland plains of the Free Marches. It was a long pass, often used by merchant caravans heading towards the other Marcher cities or beyond to Antiva. Aveline remembered how they had aided Javaris Tintop here, on their return from one of their many trips to Sundermount. It had started Hawke's involvement with the Arishok and his followers of the Qun.
The guard-captain rubbed her temple with irritation and the hints of a headache. She needn't fret and stress over the state of things regarding the Qunari, she had much bigger fish to fry at the moment. Like crazed blood mage slavers purging the underside of Kirkwall of the dregs, as he had called them. Aveline's hand closed around the pommel of her sword. Maybe all the raiders and giant spiders lurking in the shadows of the wilds around Kirkwall would give her a pass this early in the morning. She was in enough trouble as it was.
She had no idea what to expect. She knew he was still probing at her mind. Sometimes she felt Yuvar's disgusting tendrils of thought. She felt moments of terror whenever this happened, which seemed to please him. It was the impression she got, or maybe just her active imagination. Maybe it was the normal reaction of those he controlled. Perhaps he thrived on it, sowing the seeds of his hatred further.
Aveline walked the moderately steep path and then stopped when she heard sounds. There were people ahead. She did not let go of her sword, but slowed down her pace. Ahead of her was a merchant caravan. They had not come from Kirkwall, she would have noticed their tracks. It looked like they had travelled here and were now waiting. This was the rendezvous point. They looked like normal Marchers, ordinary traders who would not ever participate in unsavory activities. How looks were deceiving.
Their leader was a tall, balding man of rotund build. He had his thumbs behind a heavy leather belt that carried fat pouches. He stared at her suspiciously and then spit at her feet, barely missing. Finely honed skills, for certain. "That's a long way to travel for a Kirkwall city guard, isn't it?"
Aveline stood stiffly. She opened her mouth to say something, a sharp retort, but something else entirely came out. Yuvar. The bastard. "I am the city guard contact, who was sent here to inspect the business. I will make sure that no one will ever bother you. With my assistance, you might even be able to transfer goods closer to the city soon. I am the guard-captain." She spoke in this bored sound of voice that Yuvar always used. How in the Maker's name did he do this? Had he planted this beforehand? Not even thinking of Isabela was of any help. Maker, Isabela. Would she still be safe?
"He's a crafty fella, ain't he? Got the guards in the bag. How convenient." The trader looked pleased, laughing in a grating manner. His hands were unmoving as they rested against his large belly. "I thought he was supposed to be here today as well?"
She nodded to him. "He will be coming with the goods." Goods. What a ridiculous term to use, considering they were humans and elves, helpless people sold into greedy hands.
"The last batch fetched incredible prices in Antiva City. This batch will be shipped to Tevinter. It's all a good business. Keeps me well-fed for sure." The trader laughed merrily as if he was talking about the sale of fabrics, and not people. It sounded like fingernails on a chalk board to her, unpleasant, making her hair stand on end. Starkhaven, with all the power of the Chantry behind it, did not seem breed the nicest people, based on Yuvar and now this trader. She wondered what Sebastian Vael would say, if he knew of this. But then, the man was worthless to her. A Chantry boy who was driven to inactivity through belief instead of reclaiming his heritage. Aveline was so jaded about the devout now.
So much could go wrong today. Hawke could show early and ruin the rendezvous. Yuvar could arrive, find out that she had alerted someone and kill them all. Isabela could be dead already. She had not dared go back to the Chantry the last two days. She simply had not dared. He would have had the Chantry watched. She wouldn't have been able to do anything, and he would have known. Guilt and fear were her constant companion. Isabela is strong. She will be fine. The pirate had put so much faith in her. At the same time, she had been convinced that Yuvar wanted her dead anyway. What if he didn't bring her?
Her fear was unwarranted. From the direction Aveline had come from, there were sounds. More people arriving. The goods. Aveline stood next to the trader, keeping her mind blank, waiting. She heard them more clearly before seeing them. Wisps of song were blown to them by the wind.
And then the Maker sealed the gates
Of the Golden City
And there, He dwelled, waiting
To see the wonders
His children would create.
She had seen groups like this plenty of times in Kirkwall. A group of children, led by Chantry brothers and sisters, singing the Chant of Light. Did this mean they had all been blind to the slavers for such a long time? Had he trafficked this heavily? So many missing children. Yuvar was leading them, actually dressed in robes of the Chantry. Was he really a brother? He was leading about a dozen girls, two boys, and then Isabela in the back. It was a relief to see the Rivaini, but she looked grey and worn-out. She wore a different robe now, even more matronly than Hawke's robe had been. Her amber eyes, usually so full of life and spirit, were empty. No mirror to the soul, just emptiness. She sang the Threnodies chant, just like the children did.
The children were wildly varied. A lot of them looked like Fereldans, with maybe one or two elves inbetween. All of them looked starved, from a poor background, but they looked clean and also quite pretty. The oldest was maybe 14, but the majority were closer to 12-13. They meekly sang along. They clearly had no idea what to expect, what life they were heading towards.
"Here we are, my children, Maker bless you. The Chantry in Starkhaven will welcome you warmly." Yuvar sounded almost cheerful. "It is here that we must part ways, but Andraste shall guide your steps to the heart of the Maker." He herded them together, like a good shepherd, and Isabela helped him, guiding a bunch of girls by their shoulders. There was no hint of recognition on Isabela's features. Aveline's heart was crushed by this, like a fist pressing hard around it, breaking her. Did he break her mind and her spirit with blood magic, just like Quentin had broken Leandra Amell?
Yuvar joined her and the trader, embracing the other man in greeting. "Arann, glad you could make it on time today. A good day. This flock will be find a new home quite easily, won't they?" He cocked his head at Aveline. "You have met my newest partner, haven't you? Guard-captain Aveline Vallen. This will increase our options in many ways. Business will flourish."
Arann laughed deeply and clapped Yuvar on the shoulder. "Yes, brother, business will flourish. Father had no idea how resourceful you were, or you would be running the family business, not I." He removed some of the fat pouches from his belt and handed them over. "Ah, I went to Antiva City myself for the last voyage. That one gorgeous girl, prime prices, brother, prime indeed. The Madame said she would be a queen once she is properly trained. They like them young." The men laughed, and Aveline tasted bile in her throat. This was what despair felt like.
Hawke better made her appearance soon.
Yuvar did indeed explain the business to her. Aveline didn't even know why. If his control ever slipped, she would have all the details. He had to be fully convinced that he fully had her. She didn't blame him, so far it was true. Whatever sense of freedom she had had after the Chantry, it was wiped out.
"It is quite easy. They bring them to the Chantry, where the children receive clothing, and more food than they probably had in a month. Their families think they are going to serve in the Chantry at Starkhaven. It is quite easy to coax their soft minds towards the Maker, especially the ones who still long for their families. Unfortunate that they never quite reach the Chantry in Starkhaven, but then, none of them are pure enough for the Maker's embrace." He sounded bored again, only the Maker producing some kind of feeling in his voice. It burned on Aveline's tongue to ask how these children could be considered impure, but she couldn't voice it. She merely nodded, watching him weigh a heavy pouch in his hands. Faithful and greedy. What a distasteful combination. "Not much longer, and I can leave Kirkwall behind. The city will miss my touch and the cleansing, but there are other cities that need me. Tantervale maybe, or even Ostwick. Or maybe I shall retire."
It was too much to hope for, if he was not killed today. That he would leave Kirkwall and move on. Maybe he sensed her relief, because he added "Then, it would be such folly, with so many stalwart allies on my side in Kirkwall now. I can of course not leave any of you behind when I depart. That would be foolish, and I am not a fool." His smile was thin, and his eyes were chilly, the murky depths unreadable.
When Aveline had almost given up hope, watching the caravan prepare for departure, a familiar voice spoke up. Finally. "And where exactly do you think you're going here with those children and our friend?" Said friend did not even move when Hawke spoke up. Isabela was helping the traders pack up. Aveline heard Arann curse, and she heard the sound of blades drawn. She drew her own and prepared, ready to defend...who exactly? Yuvar. Of course. The bastard moved behind her, using her as his shield, and his shield she would be.
"These are slavers. I know this face. Danarius bought from him on our travels." Fenris snarled and pointed at a blanching Arann. "Look at that sweat running down his brow now. Dirty slaver." The former Tevinter slave was ready to move in and destroy them.
Hawke did indeed bring the best. There was Fenris, Varric in the back, and of course Merrill. A near unstoppable force. "These are only children. Almost all girls. By the creators." Merrill seemed shocked as she walked closer, but then stopped, as she saw Isabela and Aveline. Isabela blankly looked at the group, no will, no mind of her own. She didn't even seem to have any daggers on her. If she did, she'd likely protect Yuvar as well. Aveline could only look back at the elf, holding her at sword point. Merrill looked sad for a moment, then called out with urgency. "Hawke, blood magic. This man behind Aveline, he controls both her and Isabela. We must kill him." Even as she spoke, she cast her own magic, protecting herself with a layer of rock surrounding her.
Aveline felt propelled forward, to hit Merrill with her shield, to stop her from casting, and then the battle was upon them. There were more slavers than Hawke's group, but being outnumbered had never been their problem. They had faced far worse odds.
In the end, she wouldn't have been able to tell what happened. It was all a red haze as she felt Yuvar force her to defend him at any cost. She knew her companions well, and made it hard for them, but ultimately not hard enough.
How strange it was, to watch Merrill cut herself and then ensnare slavers with vines. She wreaked havoc upon them with her power, and so did Hawke, complementing her spells with those of her own. Did Merrill ever control anyone in the way Yuvar did? Aveline couldn't imagine this at all. Yet, there was the potential. Her mind was no longer so clouded. She turned around to find Yuvar fallen. Isabela was screaming, but it didn't sound like pain. It sounded like outrage and anger.
Fenris had Yuvar on the ground, choking him, and it could only be a moment until he would reach into his ribcage to rip his heart out. "Fenris, stop!" Aveline dropped her sword, and moved to him. "You don't know what this bastard has done. You have no idea how truly evil this man is." She wiped at a cut on her face. She didn't even remember how she got all those wounds, but wounded she was. One of Bianca's bolts was stuck on her left greave. It didn't matter. The man was almost dead. "Give Isabela a dagger. Let her kill him."
Aveline was on her knees, as she watched Isabela approach. "Here you go, Rivaini," she heard Varric's voice, one of Isabela's staunch friends. Isabela kneeled, right next to Aveline, looking at her. Her dark brown hair was worn in a tight bun, and her expression could only be described as wounded. She held the dagger in shaking hands. Aveline spotted cuts all over both hands, some of them looking like deep gashes. It was like being cut herself, trying to think of the pain and torture the pirate had gone through on her behalf.
Isabela touched Aveline's arm. "We hold the dagger together." Her voice was hoarse, ragged. She must have screamed a lot those past two days. She waited. Aveline took a deep breath, then put her hand over Isabela's, gently, as not to hurt her. Yuvar's face was purple, as Fenris still held him, and Merrill had him firmly ensnared by vines growing from the earth. "We hold it together, we kill him together." Isabela's hand moved, and Aveline's with her. They drove the dagger into his chest with full force of two strong arms, upwards, puncturing the lungs. Then they waited, watching the blood froth on Yuvar's lips as life drained from him when Fenris let go of his throat. Even now, he was still praying to the Maker. They drove the dagger into him again and again, until he was still.
Some things never changed. Aveline still liked to do her paperwork in the middle of the night. The barracks were so quiet and peaceful at midnight. It was better than tossing and turning, and having nightmares. In her most vivid nightmare, in the two weeks since they destroyed the slaver ring, she was back in that chapel. Isabela was tied to a wall, and Aveline held a dagger, cutting her everywhere. She was only wearing a shift, and Aveline's dagger was razor-sharp. Yuvar watched, and he prayed, and he laughed.
Aveline would never be able to go back to the Chantry for service, ever. Forever tainted. The Maker would have to forgive her for this. She had not seen Isabela since Dead Man's Pass, had not known how to approach her.
She was so distracted that she did not even hear the sound of the door. "Are you never going home? Where do you even live?" Deja vu washed over Aveline as she looked up at the piercing gaze of Isabela. She was dressed her usual self, with her hair held back with a blue bandana, her shamelessly revealing corset, and her tall boots. She looked confident, and walked over to an armchair with her usual swagger.
Only her eyes hinted at the bruises she was bearing now. Aveline pursed her lips. "I like to work late at night. So quiet. I believe you know I actually live here in the barracks." She spoke formally, but her eyes were anything but formal. Her eyes were begging for forgiveness.
"You'll have to show me your room sometime. After all, we're intimately familiar with each other now, aren't we?" Isabela's look was hard. The words were teasing, but her gaze was stony. "I don't risk my life for just anyone, big girl. I don't risk my life for nothing."
Aveline swallowed, then opened her desk's cabinet, to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of wine. "Will you drink with me, Isabela?" The pirate merely nodded. There was silence as Aveline poured and then handed the glass of deep red wine to Isabela. When she lifted the glass to Isabela in toast and led it to her lips, it occurred to her much the wine looked like blood. Like Yuvar's blood frothing on his lips. She drank deeply, hoping in her heart that he had suffered greatly.
Isabela licked her lips after drinking, but didn't speak. She was watching Aveline. Unnerving her, laying her bare, layer by layer. The wine made her lips look even more luscious than usual. "I would like to apologize to you, Isabela. I made the biggest mistake asking for your help. In my defense, I can only say I never knew what kind of man he was. I never knew he would be such a danger to you. To us. I never knew he would torture you the way he did." Isabela's eyes were gleaming in the candlelight in the office. "I hope the sovereigns that Seneschal Bran paid you were sufficient. It's just money, but..." This was a lot more difficult than she had even thought it would be. "I can only beg your forgiveness, Isabela. I will have to live with this failure of mine for the rest of my life. I am so grateful that you live. I..."
Aveline's voice was breaking. She was not used to crying, and now she cried all the time, in the aftermath of their ordeal. She was so tired of crying. So tired of feeling like a failure.
When she looked up, a headband was dangling before her face. "I wanted to ask if I can keep this as a prize." Isabela actually smiled. The skin of her hands looked smooth and unbroken. Anders had healed it, just like he had treated the cuts on Aveline's arms. "I clung to it after you were gone. Every time I got scared, I put it on, because then I thought I would feel confident, stoic and strong, like you are. It helped me center myself." She lay it on the desk now, running a finger over it. "I think the first couple hours I wanted to rip it apart, because you had kicked me down and helped him, and took his side. Then I remembered. This was my big girl, not just anyone. He didn't seem to have that much sway over you. Maybe you would save me." She balled up the headband and held it against her chest in a fist. "It just took a lot longer than I expected."
Aveline bowed her head in shame, and then looked up. "I didn't last very long breaking his will. Long enough to inform Hawke. I could have told Hawke to break you out of the Chantry, but I didn't. I wanted to catch him red-handed. I knew what this meant for you. I failed you and myself."
Isabela shook her head. "Stop talking like that. This is not the Aveline I am used to. You saved me, Aveline. But more importantly, you saved all those girls. For fuck's sake, they ran this as a family business. Now that they have this Arann, he sang like a bird, all the details. You did the right thing. You got him, Aveline. You got that bastard."
Aveline shook her head. "No, I didn't, Isabela. We got that bastard. And it felt so damn good." The other woman nodded, and they were looking grimly at each other. Eventually, Isabela's expression softened, and she reached out to touch one of Aveline's hands. They sat there like that for a while, drinking their wine, and being silent with each other, their fingers laced.
Isabela finally spoke into the silence. "It is very difficult for me, at night. I dream. Or I cannot fall asleep because I...see him. I don't think I have had a full night's sleep since..." She bit her bottom lip. "Since holding you. I have tried to...occupy myself, but once that's done, I am just by myself, and scared again. Here's where the habit of a lifetime of sleeping alone is kicking me in the ass. It's hard."
The guard-captain let out a sigh and nodded. "I understand. Sometimes...quite often actually, I see you at night, and I hurt you and...it's just miserable and heart-breaking. It all went against everything I stand for, Isabela. This is why I sit here every night, working until I am too exhausted. At least that's hours spent not dreaming."
Isabela rose at this in one smooth motion. She rounded the desk full of determination. Without much thought to it, she pushed Aveline back in her chair, and then easily slid into her lap, straddling her. She was all softness against the hard steel of the plate armor. A hand caressed Aveline's face, and this time, Isabela did press her lips against Aveline's. Not just a gentle finger, but her less gentle lips. Both hands held Aveline's face now, against her own, and they kissed deeply. It was not a kiss like Aveline had ever experienced before. Isabela's lips were so luscious, so soft, and yet so hungry. She kissed with fire and experience. She kissed like she wanted to absorb their pain, their nightmares, their loneliness, and replace it with nothing but incandescent pleasure.
When they broke their kiss to breathe, the two women gazed at each other. Isabela's eyes were filled with longing. Aveline was torn, her heart was aching. The kiss had been so bittersweet. Her body had certainly responded to Isabela, full of curiosity, yet she didn't know if it was the right path for her. Did she love Isabela? Isabela leaned down to trace a line of kisses from her jaw to her neck. Each touch of her lips burned like fire on every nerve ending. Aveline closed her eyes. She didn't need to love Isabela like she had loved her husband. It was a different kind of love, that's what it was. "Let me show you my room," she said. She tried to say it casually, with levity, but for some reason her voice was shaking.
They were silent as Aveline led them through the quiet barracks. The doors muffled the snores of some of the guards that slept in their bunks in adjoining rooms. The captain's suite was far back, relatively private. No one had ever joined her here since it was assigned to her. No one. Ever. Did Isabela really have to talk her into admitting she was lonely when it was so obvious?
She locked the door behind her as Isabela skimmed the room with her eyes. "I don't think you spend much time here." The anteroom was bare. Basic furniture. A painting of some rustic Fereldan scenery. A rug that had been given as present by Leandra. Isabela picked up a book and then chuckled. "Here I thought it might be one of Varric's. No 'Hard in Hightown' for you, huh? Military formations through the ages. How boring. I need to gift you some books." She put the book back down, and then held her hands out to Aveline. "Show me the rest."
The rest wasn't much either. Through a door, they reached the bedroom. The bed was the only fancy piece of furniture she had ever allowed herself. It might even rival Hawke's canopied bed by sheer size alone. Thick blankets, fluffy pillows. Wide enough for two. Never used by two. She had once had the fleeting thought that guardsman Donnic would share it with her, but that was another endeavor she had failed at.
"You are scared. Nervous. Or both." Isabela squeezed her hand, then let go, drifting about the room. She stood by the bed, then turned to face Aveline, speaking with fire in her voice. "Will it reassure you that I will never tell anyone? I can tell you it would be meaningless. Or that it would be meaningful, if that'll put you more at ease. I have often referred to it as rutting, but that's not what I am looking for, Aveline. I also don't want a pity fuck." She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes, as if she had seconds thoughts about being here right this moment. "Do you even realize that you know more about me than just about anyone else? I have slept with Hawke, and she knows nothing about me. I have slept with so many. After all I am nothing but a whore. Yet they know nothing. You do." One of her hands reached down to touch the soft quilt covering Aveline's bed. "I want you to come into this of your own free will. I want you to want me. I want you to come seeking oblivion in my arms so that I can find the same. I am not sure I will find peace in any other way. It can't be on the terms I usually use." She tilted her head. "We're not the kind of women who would do things unwillingly. I think we had enough of that, didn't we?"
Aveline nodded her head and then closed the distance between them. "We did. But...yes, I am scared. Scared but willing. Rusty hinge, remember?" She smiled shakily and Isabela actually laughed.
"Come on, you have to admit, it was a good line. Besides, I have heard that I am good at...oiling rusty hinges." Isabela smiled crookedly, and touched a cool hand to Aveline's burning cheeks. "I admire you, Aveline. Never forget that. Part of me will always wish I were more like you. I don't know if I'll ever be as loyal as you are." She looked pained for a moment. "I can't even promise that I won't betray you and the others for selfish gain for myself. I hope I would not, but...I am not you." She kneeled and started unbuckling Aveline's greaves. Her hands had experience with the way the armor worked. Aveline's questioning glance was answered with "You're not the first guard I have...undressed."
Aveline tilted her head. "Part of me will always wish I was more like you. Not as narrow-minded. More daring. Less boring. You are so free, Isabela. I have never known any freedom like yours. You are the most confident woman I know, more confident than Hawke even." She inhaled sharply when Isabela removed the chestpiece. She reverently set it aside, then ran her hands over Aveline's shoulders, arms and chest.
The armor was placed on the rack that sat next to the bed. They didn't speak while Isabela worked the many buckles. She finally unwrapped Aveline's rust-colored scarf and took a step back. The guard-captain wore a padded shift underneath all that armor, and thin pants to protect the legs from chafing. Even though she was still dressed, she felt naked already.
Seize the moment. Aveline clumsily stepped forward, placing her hands on Isabela's shoulders. She was out of her depth, confused and torn. Isabela's kisses had made the heat in her unbearable. She wanted to come to the pirate of her free will. This was actually worse than her wedding night. She hadn't been so nervous then. What did women even...do with each other? She pressed her lips against Isabela's with no finesse whatsoever, with a dominance she didn't feel. It made the Rivaini step back and laugh. "Relax, big girl. I will take care of you. Let me."
And she did. Soon she was fully undressed. So was Isabela. Aveline's eyes widened when she took in the shapes and curves of the Rivaini's body. Lush was one of the many pleasant words that came to mind.
Before Isabela sealed her lips with another kiss, the pirate laughed in delight. "You weren't kidding. You don't look too bad naked. In fact, you look exquisite." Aveline didn't even have the time to blush.
Exquisite was a good term to use around Isabela. She kissed Aveline with great skill. The guard hadn't known lips could be so soft. She tasted the wine they had shared earlier. She started gently at first, but within mere moments, the world was spinning around Aveline and all blood rushed downwards. She clung to the Rivaini, running her hands through the other woman's hair. How strange it felt to have so much softness against her. Everything was soft and warm. Her tongue was moving in slow strokes, first gently, then ever more deeply, until their kisses were hungry and breathless. They left her wanting for more.
Isabela placed her on the bed, hovering above her. She smiled down at Aveline's overly serious face. "Relax," she whispered again, then removed Aveline's headband. She ran her hands through the ginger hair, spreading it out across the pillows. It was a stark contrast to the pale, freckled skin. "You look like milk, like clotted cream. So delicious." She lapped at the supple skin of her neck playfully, shooting sparks through Aveline's nerves. She touched the warrior's upper arms, felt the strong muscles. "You are such a study in contrasts. Such strength, such litheness." Aveline's arms flexed under the touch, so sensitive under the pirate's fingers. Isabela's fingers dug in harder. "Like alabaster. Lovely. At the same time, so very soft." Her roving fingers reached the cleft between her breasts, gently stroking the swell. "I want to taste it all."
Everything else was a blur after those words. Or not even blurred, sometimes time seemed to slow, came to a stop. Isabela kept looking at her, and Aveline could not avert her eyes. She watched how the other woman discovered everything about her, leaving no inch of skin untouched, none unkissed. Their gazes locked frequently. Isabela was taking it extremely slow, always holding back, waiting for Aveline to ask her to go on or provide other signs of encouragement. "Smile for me," she would say, tendrils of dark hair sticking to her damp forehead. Aveline smiled as bidden, until it all become too much for her. At one point she threw her arm over her eyes because she was overwhelmed. Isabela did not let her avert her eyes. A strong hand moved her arm, then pinned her down. "Are you ready for me?" All Aveline had for her was a wordless moan.
If she thought she was overwhelmed before, Aveline now learned a whole new meaning for the term. She did not know if she had ever been ready for an experience like this. As her climax rippled through her in waves, she heard her own voice scream in the distance. By the time she was spent, Isabela had already changed to a different tune. She played her like a harp, with the touch of gentle fingers, stroking relentlessly. The second time she found release, she found she screamed even more. Finally, she had to struggle, to hold Isabela's face between her hands, to kiss and taste herself on the other woman's lips to make her stop. "Enough," she begged, pressing her forehead against Isabela's. "Enough. I think I just died a million times over." Isabela looked at her with luminous eyes, causing Aveline to look at her with a tremulous smile. "I didn't know dying felt amazing like that."
In time, Aveline learned how to touch Isabela that night. First with clumsy hands, then with more confidence, aided by the fact that the Rivaini was very vocal. It was not difficult to find out how to please her. It even was a fun game of itself to not give in to her demands and tease her slowly. Aveline couldn't remember anything the like from her marriage to Wesley. In fact, he seemed positively boring now, Maker bless his memory. Aveline's heart was overflowing with emotion and thudding hard in her chest when Isabela shook in her arms, looking up at her with a softness that was touching. The softness was fleeting, but they both knew that the guard-captain had seen it.
"Can I stay?" Isabela sounded vulnerable as she asked this question, even while wrapped around Aveline.
The other shook her head and quirked a smile. "That's not a question. I wouldn't let you go. Let me protect you." Aveline had failed at this once, and never meant to again. Isabela tucked her head under Aveline's chin and curled up against her, her arms and legs thrown over her. Their limbs were fully entangled. Aveline couldn't remember ever feeling this glowing with a joy that transcended the physical.
They were safe from nightmares that night. When Aveline woke the next morning, she felt more relaxed than in years. Just after dawn, she had been woken by Isabela, who ardently made love to her again before leaving. They made no promises when she left. No one need ever know, she said. She said she might be back.
Aveline did not mind that one bit.