Several weeks had passed since their night in the Chantry with Isabela. Hawke had acquired two new companions in her endeavors. When she traveled to Sundermount to settle her debt with Flemeth, the witch who rescued them from the Blight, they came away with a Dalish mage called Merrill. She was young, and First to her clan's Keeper, Marethari. The elf was naive and innocent of the ways of humans, but she was powerful.
She was taught well in the arcane arts, and knew how to wield them against her enemies. But she meddled in dangerous things. It turned out that she was well-versed in the arts of Blood Magic, something everyone rightfully feared. However, she had remarkable control over it, keeping hard concentration. Despite her uses of forbidden magic, she was sweet, well-meaning and endearing to all. Varric made sure to look after her while she got used to Kirkwall, and Isabela was determined to break that veil of innocence.
Merrill wasn't the only elf they made as an ally. However, this other one was nothing like Merrill. His name was Fenris, and he was a slave that escaped from the Tevinter Imperium. He was a powerful warrior, who carried all of his hatred and regret in every swing of his greatsword.
His former master, Danarius, a powerful Tevinter Magister, had carved lyrium into Fenris' own skin, giving him a unique ability. He could tap into the power of the lyrium veins and was able to thrust his fist through a man's body, clenching onto his heart and crushing it with one squeeze of his hand.
He hated any and all magic. It had been used against him, scarred him and the enchantments used to embed the silvery substance into his body erased his memory. He no longer knew his former life, or what freedom was like, thanks to magic and the greed of those who used it.
He was always wary of Bethany, but respected her for her equal abhorrence of Blood Magic and choice to heal more than hurt. Anders, on the other hand, Fenris despised. He could never bring himself to fully trust the revolutionary mage that took a spirit into his body. As for Merrill, it was lucky that Hawke could get the former slave to not slay the Dalish girl, let alone get them to even stay in the same room.
Merrill never fully grasped Fenris' hatred toward her. She knew her Blood Magic was a taboo art, but she knew she had in under control, and didn't use it to bargain with demons for freedom, or domination. She was always kind to him, in the hopes that he may never forgive her, but at least tolerate her.
They were all settled around a table late one night at the Hanged Man. It had become a tradition for the group to get together and play a few rowdy rounds of Wicked Grace. Even Aveline, the newly appointed Guard Captain came to loosen up over a few pints of ale. Anders sat near the edge, scribbling away on a scroll. He was already disgruntled from earlier. He left to go relieve himself, and Isabela took the scroll and drew breasts all around the edges. Everyone was snickering when he came in, and the look on his face when he found out why had everyone roaring with laughter. Even Fenris chuckled louder than usual, but he relished every prank played on the Warden.
Merrill normally sat out on most rounds, because she was so terrible at the game. However, Isabela would play as a team with her, to help teach the elf how to play. That usually backfired, though, as Merrill was in the habit of pointing out or squealing with delight every time Isabela cheated.
That particular night, they were celebrating Hawke and Bethany officially reaching thirty sovereigns to put toward investing in Bartrand's expedition. Aveline and Fenris were the only two members of their company not drinking. Hawke definitely had a few too many pints, and the little Dalish was still trying to get accustomed to human alcohol and drinking habits. She seriously could not hold her liquor. Bethany's cheeks were unusually pink, as Isabela talked her into having several shots of whiskey. She giggled when the pirate asked if Bethany was willing to try some body shots. Hawke picked up an empty tankard and threw it at her for coming onto her sister again for the thousandth time.
"Hey! What was that for! I wasn't trying to get into her pants, just some innocent slurping of alcohol out of your sister's naval!" She gave the younger Hawke a very undisguised brazen look.
"You are not doing that to my sister!" Bethany was blushing furiously as the two rogues argued over her.
"Come on, Hawke! The poor girl's never had a man before! She made a very naughty gesture with her hand. "Or even a woman, for that matter..." Isabela licked her lips hungrily. No one thought Bethany's face could get much redder, but it certainly did.
"Had a man?" Merrill slurred, confused. "But there are men all over here! Maybe we can't count Varric, though, since he's not really a man! He's a dwarf. And then we couldn't include Fenris, either, by that logic!" She hiccupped a little.
Everyone burst out laughing again. "Having a man, Kitten, means having sex with him," Isabela calmly explained. "Either way, Hawke, you're keeping your sister from enjoying one of the greatest things a woman can have. Nothing like feeling an orgasm at the hands of someone half-drunk, desperate to hear you moan into the night-"
"And I will continue to do so if it's the likes of you that keep coming after her!" Hawke's temper flared under the influence of too much ale. She didn't want to think of her sister in the throes of passion.
"Okay... How about this." The Rivaini's sly eyes focused onto Hawke's. "If I win this next round, Bethany gets a night at the Rose on me!"
"And if I win...?"
"Then I get you, instead." She slid the toe of her boot up Hawke's leg, under the table. She shivered at the sudden contact.
"You're going to cheat!"
"I won't!" Isabela held up her hand as though swearing an oath. "I swear, by Andraste's milky tits that I won't cheat!"
"Merrill," Hawke said to the elf. "You know her cheating best, keep an eye on her, won't you?"
"Anything for you, Hawke!"
Varric dealt the cards as Norah brought over more ale and plate of salted pork. Everyone watched intently, unable to decide which of the two sneaky women would win the game. Bethany was torn over which rogue she wanted to be the victor. She didn't quite trust the pirate enough to dictate her love life, or lack thereof. But, she was a little frustrated with Marian's constant sheltering. She knew it came from a lifetime of protecting her from the Circle, but it was hard to get her sister to see that she wasn't just a child anymore.
It wasn't long before they started placing bets on who was going to win. The group seemed pretty evenly divided, and busied themselves with more drink and food while the two battled it out. It seemed for a while that Isabela had the upper hand, and would be taking the cake. However, Hawke had been saving her play, intentionally letting the pirate think she was winning so she would get overconfident through a haze of whiskey, the temptation of a small pile of silvers sitting in the pot, and her drive to trump Hawke.
When the final hand was played, though, Hawke hung Isabela out to dry. She used what she had been saving in her hand for the entire round, and the sight of the Rivaini's disbelief was more than enough satisfaction for her.
She turned to look at Bethany and gauge her reaction to her victory, but Isabela leaping over the table to plant herself firmly on Hawke's lap thoroughly distracted the rogue.
"Isa-" But she never finished, because her lips were suddenly caught in a searing kiss. The Pirate's mouth was hot and firm against her own. Her lips tasted like whiskey and spice, her tongue urgent to explore the victor's own mouth.
A little jolt of pleasure flashed through her brain and she found herself pulling Isabela firmly against her body, loving the feel of the pirate's smooth thighs squeezing against her own hips, noticing a slight rocking. The dusky beauty took no time in moving her hand to fondle one of Hawke's breasts through her jerkin.
It was the catcalls, whoops and whistles from more than just her own companions that brought her back to reality. She reluctantly broke away, blushing furiously at her lack of control. She looked into Isabela's eyes; they held nothing but pure, unbridled, carnal lust, and it desperately made the elder Hawke want to abandon all propriety again.
"My room. Now." Isabela slid off of her prey, trying to tug her out of her chair.
"No." Hawke mentally winced at denying the beautiful temptress before her.
"What did you say?"
"I'm not going to have sex with you," she replied with a little more authority. "Not tonight, anyway," muttered under her breath.
"Maker's saggy balls you are! The deal was that I get you if you win. Last I checked, you beat me soundly!"
"I said you could have me, but I never said you could have all of me. Nor did I say when you could have all of me." She smirked in triumph. "It takes more than winning a bet in Wicked Grace to get me to bed, Isabela." The slightest glint of a challenge lingered in Hawke's pale blue eyes.
"Looks like I'll have to try harder. Easy is fun, but a challenging dare makes going in for the kill simply," she leaned in to whisper into the rogue's ear. "Exquisite."
All of Hawke's blood was suddenly pounding in her ears, feeling as though she had been knocked over the head and left dazed. She gazed wistfully upon the swaying form of the woman sauntering away from her. Her mouth went completely dry, and she failed to take notice of anyone else around her. "I need to go," she blurted, before dashing out of the tavern.
Hawke jogged all the way to the docks, stripped out of her armor and stowed it in a nearby barrel. She leapt off the edge and into the icy seawater below. She surfaced, wiping her short ebony locks from her face. Nothing could have prepared her for what the feeling of the Rivaini against her was going to be like.
Sure, she had thought about it before, but her fantasies paled in comparison to the real thing. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her head that was still fuzzy from all the ale. But every time her lids closed, she saw copper skin, smelled whiskey and girl-sweat, felt the heat of a dominating, but still-pliant, mouth on her own. She was in trouble.
Hawke crept back into Gamlen's hovel in the early hours of the morning. Mangy snuffled a little, when looking up to see his master before promptly going back to sleep. She took a couple of logs near the hearth, and laid them over the faintly glowing embers. Afterward, she opened the bedroom door as quietly as she possibly could, wincing at every creak and groan of the old wood. She was ascending the ladder to her bunk when she heard the rustle of wool blankets below.
"M'rian? Is that you?" Hawke sighed heavily.
"If it wasn't, Mangy would be making a fuss. Go back to sleep, Beth."
"Wha' 'bout tonight? Shouldn' we talk?"
"No, what you need is sleep. We can talk when your two eyes are open! Now hush, Sister." Bethany grunted quietly before rolling over and was soon snoring softly. The rogue lay in her bunk, staring up at the darkened ceiling inches from her face. What exactly did Bethany want to discuss? It was undoubtedly something to do with her... interaction with the sultry pirate. But maybe she just wanted to talk about her still trying to protect the young mage. Hawke knew that what she did was out of line, but she would slit throats to protect Bethany from greedy lust.
These thoughts plagued her until the sun began to break the horizon, when sleep finally stole over her. It felt as though only a few minutes had passed when she felt a finger prodding into her side. She tried to ignore it, but the finger was poking harder. Hawke rolled over, groaning loudly to express her displeasure.
"Wake up, sleepy! A messenger came by today! I think there's a new job for us!"
"This early?"
"Well, I heard it from one of the criers, but still..."
Hawke swung her legs over the edge of the bed and jumped down, only to crumble to the floor, clutching her throbbing head. Bethany was immediately at her side, asking if she was okay.
"Just too much ale last night, Beth. Maker knows I can take a hit like any man, but this pounding in my head..." Hawke retched, a small bit of bile dribbling out of her mouth. Bethany made is disappear with a wave of her hand before placing a mint leaf in her sibling's mouth.
"That should calm your stomach. I'll get you some water once I've taken care of your headache." She gently rested her hand on Hawke's head, and began to whisper under her breath, channeling her magic into a calming wave. She heard her hung-over sister sigh in relief. She helped the bedraggled woman into the bottom bunk before fetching a mug of water.
She got some of the liquid into Hawke before singing her to sleep. Bethany got up and slipped on her soft leather boots, snatching up her father's staff before entering the main room.
"Is everything okay, dear? I heard a bit of a ruckus in there."
"It's nothing, Mother. Marian just took a little tumble!" Bethany giggled at her mother's expression. "She's just really hung over from our game last night!"
"Thought you were supposed to be saving your blasted coin, not pissing it away at the Hanged Man," Gamlen grumbled.
"Maybe Mother would like to know where you piss all of your coin away, Uncle?"
"N-no need for that! I'll just uh..."
The mage gave the man a satisfied sneer before she heard the weak calls of her sister. She strutted past the grumpy codger to the bedroom. Marian was on her side, looking like she was hoping she could claw her way out of the bed and across the floor. Her arm was slung over the edge, sort of pawing at the ground.
"What in the Maker's name do you think you're doing? You're supposed to be resting," she giggled, looking over her sister's haggard form.
"Beth. C'mere. What was the job you heard about from the crier?"
"Some merchant in Hightown needs help with a problem at his mine, I think. But you're in no shape to go traipsing around anywhere."
"You're probably right, but take Mangy and go talk to Varric about it. See if he thinks 's worth putting time into. 'Cause y'know what he says, "Time 's coin!"
"We'll get there, Sister. We'll get the coin."
"If Varric thinks the job's good, see if Ave wants in, and maybe Fenris?"
"What about your pirate?"
Hawke choked on the water she was gingerly sipping. "My pirate? I'm sorry... What!?"
"Well, I mean... It seemed pretty, uh... intense last night..."
"We were drunk, Beth. I don't think Isabela wants anything more than a tumble. Now, before you press the issue further and make my head hurt more, go and talk to Varric. I should be feeling better by the time you return." She offered up a weak smile and then turned onto her back, groaning lightly.
The mage took the quickest path to the infamous tavern, Mangy dancing around her legs, happy to be out. She had been living in Kirkwall long enough to not be surprised to see just how many patrons were in there before midday. She strode right up to Varric's suite, knocking gently before entering the room.
"Ah, Sunshine! I knew it was you or Daisy; only you two knock so softly on a Dwarf's door." The Mabari bounded forward, giving the merchant prince a slobbery greeting. "What can I do for you?"
"Have you heard anything about the Hightown merchant having some sort of trouble with his mine?"
"I hear many things, Sunshine." He pushed a platter of fruits and cheeses toward the young Hawke. "I've had minor dealings with him. He's Orlesian, but pushes a hard bargain. He's shrewd when it counts, but fair to those he knows equals him. All the makings of someone bound to make coin off of brainless nobles.
"He owns a mine on the outskirts of the city; it's known as the Bone Pit. Yeah, I know, not a name to make its workers feel good," he added when seeing the mage's face. "Apparently there's been some sort of incident there. Saw some of the miners run in here, practically wetting their trousers. No one could get a word out of them, not even me." He scowled at that last comment.
"Is it a job worth looking into? Will the coin be good?"
"Hubert usually pays well for a job done right. I say go for it. Hey, where is Hawke? Usually she's the one asking me about these things."
"My dear sister had too much to drink last night. She's not feeling too well today."
"I thought you mages could make something like that go away," the dwarf teased.
"I imagine the mage that invents a spell to cure hangovers will make a great deal of coin on that!"
"He certainly would! Maybe you should try looking into that!"
"Not sure that's my thing, Varric."
He suddenly fixed her with a curious expression, like he was holding something back that was both terribly intriguing, but simultaneously hilarious. "So... Hawke and Rivaini?"
"What about them?"
"I have to say, I'm pretty sure after that display last night, Anders was ready to, well, you know..."
"Did you see the look on Isabela's face when Marian ran out? She looked like she'd been slapped!" Bethany giggled.
"You don't seem too upset about any of that."
"I don't know how I feel about it. I mean... They were both pretty sloshed. Well, most of us were. But none of what happened last night compared in anyway to the trouble Carver would get in! Oh, he got kicked out of the inn so many times for 'inappropriate conduct.'"
"Now this sounds like a good little set of stories! Do tell, Sunshine."
"Another time, perhaps, Varric. Right now, I have to go and see if Aveline wants to join us for our new venture into the mines of Kirkwall!" She said the last three words with mock mysticism, smirking at the dwarf. "Would you want to join me?"
"I don't know, Sunshine. Aveline isn't the most pleasant morning person..."
"Well, maybe you could see if Fenris wants to come?"
"Disrupt the elf's endless brooding? I am your charmingly handsome dwarf at your service!" He fastened Bianca to his back, before getting ready to leave with the mage.
"Do you really need your crossbow for this?"
"Bianca is very sensitive, and she gets separation anxiety. Besides, I wouldn't want her to think I was gallivanting with other women."
They left the Hanged Man together, making their way up to Hightown. Bethany was happily trading stories about family and how her father taught her magic in secret. She knew the glint in her companion's eye meant that these would turn into wild tales, full of action, hilarity and pinch of tragedy. She didn't mind, though. Bethany always loved the way Varric would embellish tales, turning them from little memories into tavern legends.
They parted ways at the stairs that led up to the Keep. The dwarf sauntered off to the Hightown mansions, preparing an onslaught of smart-mouthed teases for the cloistered elf.
Bethany and Mangy ascended the long flights of stairs to get to the main hall. She strode to the eastern side of the building where the Barracks were housed. She and her sister visited so often that no one took a second glance when the mage entered, scanning the small space for Aveline's unmistakable hair.
"Bethany." The woman she was seeking came out of one of the sleeping quarters. "Is something wrong?" Mangy happily greeted the guardswoman, pawing at her chest plate. "Where's Hawke?"
"She's fine, Aveline. She's just nursing a headache from last night's carousing." A frown of disapproval covered the Fereldan's face. "Spare my sister the lecture, please. I'm pretty sure she's feeling pretty terrible right now. I tried talking to her about it, and it was like trying to have a conversation with a wall. She'll talk about it when she's ready."
"I don't know what Hawke sees in that slattern. It's out of my hands. What did you want to talk about?"
"Have you heard about the merchant and his mine troubles?"
"A few rumors, but I haven't really been out and about today. Is Hawke planning on looking into this one?"
"Well, Varric says it's something that would probably end up paying well, and you know we need all the coin we can get. Anyway, Marian thinks some extra muscle couldn't hurt. Are you interested?"
"I suppose we would be helping a legitimate merchant, and not pirates or apostate runaways. Let me get my things, I'll be right there."
They meandered on down to Lowtown, Aveline discussing the things she has had to do to prepare for her captaincy. She has had to spend an exhaustive amount of time with Seneschal Bran, which frustrated her to no end. Aveline was a woman of action, and sitting around discussing administration instead of training or going on patrols was not her idea of fun.
They entered the shack, and saw Hawke sitting by the fire, sipping at a cup of tea, chatting with Leandra. Mangy let out several booming barks, happy to see his master out of bed. Hawke rubbed her head gingerly, telling the hound to stay quiet.
"Feeling better, Sister?"
"Much, I just have a lingering headache. I think the spell you used on my head has worn off." She smiled weakly at the duo. "Morning, Aveline. Having a good morning?"
"The Seneschal hasn't hounded me at all today, so it's been better than most."
Bethany was busy soothing her sister's head when she turned to the guardswoman. "Did Merrill make it back to the alienage okay? I saw you escorted her out of the Hanged Man last night."
"Thank the Maker that elves weigh so little. I ended up carrying her back to her home. I'm sure she's feeling worse than you are, Hawke." Aveline smiled at the aching woman.
"Why didn't any of us stop her from drinking so much last night?" Hawke looked to her two companions.
"I don't think any of us noticed just how much she had until she really started showing how drunk she was."
"Next time, let's make sure she doesn't get that much alcohol. What did Varric say, Beth?"
"He thinks it's a legitimate job. He's going to see if Fenris is available, and we're all going to meet at the Hanged Man."
"I guess I should get ready. We have coin to make!" She reentered the main room in a few minutes, fully dressed in her leather armor, daggers strapped to her back. "Beth," Hawke walked up to her sister, a serious look in her eyes. "I want you to sit this one out. Go to Merrill's, make sure she's okay." The mage was about to protest, when she saw the hollow, distant look in those blue eyes locked onto her own.
"Nightmares again?" she whispered. Her sibling nodded discreetly. "Don't worry, Sister, Merrill will be fine with me. Good luck, and don't die."
"Thank you," she said, stroking her sister's face. "Come on, Ave, let's go and meet Varric."