I swear I originally planned this to be a one shot but as usual I got carried away. This isn't even the last part (don't hit me). I hadn't intended to post this today but again I grew impatient; besides that it has been two weeks already and I started to fear you thought I had forgotten about it altogether. Well I didn't. It just took me more time than I had calculated up forehand

Enjoy!

Give me an answer part 2

The silver moon still shone over Weisshaupt Fortress; the cold rays distantly peeped through a convenient opened window set high in one of the sturdy granite walls and wandered over the tense frame of a woman lying on her stomach on a luxurious bed, her hands fisted in the blankets covering the mattress, holding fast to the fabric. To the casual observer it would seem the woman was asleep and at the very most caught in a bad dream that would be forgotten when she woke in the morning. But the casual observer would soon be proved to be wrong. Casual observers often missed the point.

Slowly Hawke sat up. She felt dizzy and disconcerted and desperately tried to clear her head to get things straight. It wasn't easy. In fact it was a lost battle up forehand. She felt completely off balance due to Fenris's sudden appearance, his rather haggard appearance. He had stood at the window like a spectre coming to haunt her conscience. Let alone the things he had said, had thrown into her face to be more specific, made her feel comfortable. In fact they still made her shudder. She only had wanted to protect him. And that made you think you obtained the right to decide over my life, Fenris's voice echoed in her head. She'd been terrified to lose him. You of all people should have know better, that same voice answered remorselessly. It was getting crowded in there, with Corypheus's droning threat as a permanent background noise. Fenris will ... Shut up! Hawke screamed inwardly. She rubbed her brow and took a deep breath in a wretched attempt to collect her thoughts. The hand fell back in her lap and automatically connected with its twin. Without a thought her fingers entwined and desperately held on to each other. Hawke stared in the distance and wondered if she really had made a big mistake. The words Fenris had spoken weighted her down with heavy guilt but she only had had his wellbeing in mind – hadn't she? Or was it her own ..? Had she indeed been selfish as Fenris had claimed though never had said out loud? But she was certain she hadn't acted out of petty selfishness. The wriggling fingers broke free and turned into two firm fists. Maker knew she had suffered greatly from this self-inflicted separation. She simply had wanted him to live and not to die because of her. Gods, this was difficult.

Suddenly her swirling incoherent contemplations got interrupted by a new voice; thankfully this one didn't add to the already existing ones wreaking havoc in her head but nevertheless confused her even more. Another spectre from the past.

'Well well, look at you,' the voice remarked dryly though not without sympathy, 'I've seen sacks with drowned puppies that looked less pitiful than you do right now.'

With a jerk Hawke yanked her head up, ignoring the risk of a nasty whiplash, and came face-to-face with the person standing before her, a person who seemed to have materialised out of thin air. No way she could be here in the flesh. Hawke blinked but the person persisted to exist. As usual the owner of this new though well-known voice radiated a kind of sultry merriment as if too much wanton sex-appeal had been cramped into one body which got accentuated by her tanned exotic beauty, hardly touched by the years and recent occurrences. Though crowned with some kind of outrageous hat this time. Hawke paid no attention to that detail – for the moment. 'Isa ... Isabela?' she managed to stutter.

'The very same,' the pirate beamed broadly.

'But, but I thought you were out on the seas, roaming the waves, pirating, looting,' Hawke stuttered some more.

With a grunt Isabela plopped down in a chair. 'Is that the story Varric told you? The mean short-legged bastard, wish it were true. I even bought the fitting hat in anticipation, an Admiral's hat,' she hinted frustrated at the contraption balancing on her head, carrying more plumes than a horde of full-grown male ostriches. 'I even had the crew ready and contracted several captains to form a fleet.' Forced them into submission you mean, Hawke thought with wicked glee until Isabela's next forbidding words made her alert. 'But certain events kept me in Kirkwall, or better the idiotic behaviour of a certain elf did.' Isabela paused and looked at Hawke with dark piercing eyes. 'We have to talk, sweetness. Urgently.'

Fenris had set himself to the task of meticulously cleaning and oiling his gear; everything was better than roving about his room like a madman or a caged animal, desperately waiting for the outcome of "the little chat" as Isabela had called the conversation between her and Hawke. In his opinion that "little chat" was the thin line between keeping the purpose to live on or losing the drive altogether and he fervently tried not to think about the consequences should the tête-à-tête go wrong. He was grateful the pirate queen had been willing to accompany him to this grim place, as a matter of fact it had been her idea. He doubted if he would have accomplished to even enter the fortress without her. For one reason or another the First Warden had been in a terrible foul mood and at first hadn't even wanted to receive them. But Isabela had charmed her way past the guardsmen at the front gate, had done the same with the ones standing firm as proud statues at the First Warden's office and in no time had wound the commander himself around her little finger. The man had stood no chance whatsoever and had granted them the honour of being his guests as long as they wished. Fenris grimaced sardonically. The First Warden undoubtedly thought the pirate queen would warm his bed the coming night and he probably wasn't wrong. Behind his sour and reproachful mask he was good-looking in a stern masculine kind of way and Isabela had bedded lesser men.

Hawke, however, wouldn't be so easily distracted. While his hands automatically busied themselves with rubbing the oil into the leathers of his armour he again played their strained encounter in his head. He had tried to be as calm and patient as possible but he feared he had done a poor job. He doubted he had got through to her. She had been upset enough already and he had done nothing but enlarge her distress. In hindsight it maybe had been better to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless as he so eagerly had wanted to do. His next violent stroke with the oil-drenched cloth almost broke a buckle and the metal tore open the skin of his knuckles. He didn't notice. No. It could well be she'd have started kicking and screaming in the state she was in and he knew for sure he would have lost his self-control. A flare of anger hit him, aimed at both her and himself. She had wounded him, hard, but even after everything he had told her he suspected she didn't understand what exactly she had caused. Worse even, he had got the impression she wasn't willing to understand. So, in a desperate last try, he had forced her hand by proposing to her. If you could call it that. Marry me or else. Idiot he had been. He groaned out loud.

At the same time Hawke shouted indignantly, 'Why did Varric tell him?! He shouldn't have told him!'

'Because you apparently have absolutely no inkling of what you're about to let slip through your fingers,' Isabela replied tetchily, 'and even less what you made your elf go through. So I'm here to explain. What did Fenris say to you?'

Amongst all the things the elf had said, one sentence suddenly sprung to the surface of Hawke's tortured mind.

'He asked me to marry him,' she muttered. Well, asked was perhaps not a sufficient expression in this particular situation but she was still too flabbergasted to pay heed to that little detail.

For a moment Isabela seemed at a loss for words but then she parried with practised ease. 'The nerve! I can see you must be highly offended by such an insult!'

Defiantly Hawke stuck out her chin and bristled. 'Not offended! I'm confused! No, overwhelmed. Bewildered. Dazzled,' she ended lamely, slumping again as if drained by her meagre display of self-defence.

'I assume you haven't answered his question yet?' Some eagerness had slipped into the pirate's voice. She really had come with Fenris to help but a little intrigue and gossip couldn't hurt to make the trip more pleasurable. Maker knew it had been challenging enough thus far with that grumpy, gloomy, brooding if not completely desolated elf at her side.

'What am I suppose to say?!' Hawke threw back in the meantime, 'I don't want him to perish because of me!' she cried out in distraught, 'and when I'm his wife he will put even more effort in keeping me from harm!' She had jumped up and agitated began to pace the room.

Outwardly unperturbed Isabela let her words sink in. She tapped her lips with her index finger as if trying to compose an answer. Finally she said, 'Listen to me Hawke,' – the "Hawke" part should have been a warning but at the moment it escaped her – 'for more than six years Fenris has stuck to you like glue because he wanted to protect you and you put up with it without a complaint. But when it suddenly dawned on you he could actually die doing that, you panicked and abandoned him.'

The pirate queen sounded irritated which only kindled Hawke's annoyance. She turned sharply. 'I did not abandon him,' she bit exasperated.

Isabela cocked her head. 'No? In my book is not being allowed to be with the one you love by the one you love practically on the same level as being abandoned by that very person.' Irritation was turning into anger very swift. There had been things she had been forced to handle Hawke didn't have a clue about. Awful things, things far beyond her normal easy-going and loose grasp of ethics. Beyond her careless philosophy of live and let live. (Or live and let die if it concerned some irksome low-lives who stood in her way.) So, in a flash of vengeance, she mercilessly pressed on, 'Oh, and speaking about dying: your elf nearly got himself killed twice in the last ferocious battle against slavers. And I speak only about that last fight, mind you. He may not be one to commit suicide, you know his view upon the matter, but it damn well looked like it the way he hurled himself into the fray. He definitely was seriously trying to end his life in the only manner he saw fit. I can only hope that was not your intent.' With some satisfaction she observed the other woman's shocked reaction. Good. It seemed she had touched the right nerve.

Horrified Hawke stared at her. 'He did what?' she croaked. Abruptly she sat down again on the bed, not trusting her sudden unstable legs.

Isabela took a look at her and sighed, trying to curb her woken anger. Right nerve or not, it wouldn't help the situation if she crushed Hawke. Her expression softened. 'You see, sweetness,' she started conversationally, 'you may not want him ending up dead, but apparently he's of a whole different opinion. You have no idea what we went through after your departure. He never has been the most cheerful type of person, although I admit he did have a whole unique kind of humour, and you could just but adore his smile, let alone his unexpected sudden laugh. Especially with that hypnotizing voice.' She was silent for a moment, swooning over the sweet memory and then became serious again. 'But after you left I haven't been able to catch him on a slightest smile even once. If he could have brood himself to death he would have done so. He locked himself in that horrible mansion of his and spent his days and nights drinking himself into a permanent stupor. What certainly could have been another way to end his life hadn't he become too resilient to alcohol I fear. You don't know how many times we, that is Aveline, Merrill and I, sneaked in to find out whether he was still alive. And found him unconscious draped over a chair or curled up in a ball before the cold hearth.' Again her voice climbed the ladder of fury at the sheer memory, she couldn't help herself. She narrowed her eyes. 'And I can't even recall how many times we chased after him when he for the umpteenth time raced off to fight slavers in that uncanny "I want to die" way he had adopted. So we could support him and prevent him of getting mortally injured. Aveline had ten guardsmen permanently watching him in case he would do something stupid again. Ten! To be honest, Varric's letter came as a relief to us all. It shook Fenris back to life. Because he became furious, you understand. As a matter of fact we all became furious. What the hell were you thinking, willing to sacrifice yourself for – ' Abruptly she cut herself off. 'If you really want to save him, you dim-witted excuse for a woman, you go right to him, accept his proposal and stay with him for the rest of your sorry life.' She stopped talking and glared angrily at Hawke sitting on the bed. The former Champion of Kirkwall stared dumbstruck back.

After a few heartbeats Hawke murmured defeated, 'I've never seen you like this.'

'No,' Isabela snarled heatedly, 'because you never gave me a reason before. But your thoughtless decision left me no other choice than to look after the man you claim to love to prevent him from the fate you abandoned him for in the first place. And the Maker and all the Dalish Gods know I hate babysitting. So, after that blissful letter, I suggested we'd travel to Weisshaupt to confront you with all the mess you stirred up. Don't forget Fenris was convinced you left him because you didn't love him anymore.'

Hawke's eyes flew open and she roared back to live. 'He mentioned that but it's not true!' she all but yelled.

Isabela fluttered her hands vehemently to quieten Hawke down who stood on the brink of desperate combustion, 'Yes, yes I believe you! Don't go up in holy flames! Let me finish!'

Hawke sagged down again, hardly being able to hold back the tears that threatened to overflow her eyes.

Isabela scratched the back of her head. She took off her outrageous hat and tapped the rim thoughtfully against her naked thigh. She wanted to stay angry but it was very difficult while taking in an utterly distressed Hawke. 'I've always been convinced you loved Fenris. Bloody hell! After he left you four years ago for whatever stupid reason, you two have been dancing around each other like a couple of teenagers in heat too timid to express their feelings. And after that incredible arrogant and creepy former master of his was put out of the way, I was convinced, we all were convinced, you were reunited forever. A match made in heaven,' she added sarcastically. She studied Hawke's face. The woman looked devastated. Time to push her over the last threshold. 'But then the battle in the Gallows courtyard happened and you went completely crazy,' she concluded, 'at least that's the only reason I can come up with to explain your idiotic choice to cowardly run away and leave us to cope with the jumble you left behind.' She smiled thinly. 'But you see, sweetness, by doing that, you've accomplished exactly the opposite of what you wanted to achieve.'

Hawke was still searching for words. She had to admit she never had thought her abrupt and rather desperate decision to leave Fenris in the middle of that fateful night would lead to this outcome. To so much misery. Nervously she wriggled her fingers.

'It didn't take much convincing to drag Fenris to this bleak fortress,' Isabela went on, 'you were here after all. Reason enough for him to let everything drop out of his hands. I told him he could get answers. Or at least an answer to his most pressing question.' Isabela paused for a moment. 'You were serious when you said you still love him, I hope?' She suddenly sounded insecure. 'Because if not I'm wasting my time here.'

And then Hawke violently burst into tears.

'Finally,' Isabela murmured relieved. She stood from her chair and sat next to Hawke on the bed, tossing her extravagant hat on the floor. The plumes gently wove in the soft breeze as a subtle kind of thumbs up. She tapped her friend on the back. 'Here here,' she said soothingly, 'it's not the end of the world.'

'I never wanted this,' Hawke howled, spluttering tears and snot around.

'I know, sweetness, I know,' Isabela told her cheeringly, 'you just weren't thinking. But it's not too late to repair the damage you've done.'

'How?' Hawke wailed, 'he will never forgive me!'

Isabella grinned broadly. 'He might surprise you. And I assume he doesn't want to marry you out of spite.' Although I wouldn't put it past him, she almost added jokingly but just in time managed to swallow back those last words in case Hawke would take it bad. The woman wasn't exactly in the joking mood at the moment. When the worst of the sobbing was over she said, 'let's make an attempt to tidy you up as best we can, shall we. You cannot face your fiancée all blotched and tear-stained.' Too weak to protest Hawke let her wash her face with water from the ewer sitting on a small side table and untangle her dishevelled hair. 'There, much better,' Isabela said satisfied.

'But what am I supposed to tell him?' Hawke objected feebly when Isabela was done fussing about her appearance.

'Shoosh, silly, stop worrying. Just say yes and everything will be all right.'

Hawke wasn't convinced so after the pirate queen had left she started lighting some candles to busy herself with something not totally lethal while passing the time.

In the meantime Fenris had thrown his armour aside because he had grown too impatient to give it real attention. Besides that he had mainly succeeded in breaking the skin of his hands on obstinate metal buckles with his fervent sweeps. When he discovered he was rubbing more blood than oil into the delicate and costly leather he realized he should forego the chore before he had completely ruined the material. Instead he removed his shirt and took up his sword; he fell into the well-known fighting stance that came automatically to him. It was almost comforting to incessantly repeat the familiar steps and swings; he fluidly moved around the room like a ballet dancer, be it a deadly and heavily armed ballet dancer. It was the perfect way to work off his tension; he should have thought about it sooner. He was so absorbed in his activity he didn't notice Isabela entering the guestroom; he nearly decapitated her and she could just avoid the dangerous blade by ducking rapidly. Fenris dropped his sword. 'Sorry,' he breathed.

'No excuse necessary,' Isabela grinned, delighted with the unexpected treat. With hot and hungry eagerness she drank in the elf's muscled naked torso that was covered with a thin sheet of sweat. Gods, he looked – tasty. And the elegant white lyrium lines swirling along his tanned skin weren't hurting her view either. It was impossible to imagine Hawke had been willing to leave all this behind. Ignorant ungrateful woman. This was some picture to cling onto while she was amusing herself with the First Warden the coming night. She sighed reluctantly when Fenris put on his shirt again.

He turned and looked at her expectantly and fearfully at the same time. If not pleading. The pirate smiled reassuringly back. 'Go ahead, handsome, the lady is all yours. Just be gentle.'

Beside Varric (and of course Fenris) Isabela has always been my favourite character in Dragon Age 2. She's much more complicated that it seems to the inattentive eye and is such a joy to play with. I couldn't resist or ignore her existence.

In the next (and last, cross my heart etc.) chapter you'll find out why I M-rated this story so stay tuned!