"Um, hello?" a voice from behind the closed office door called. "The door seems to be stuck."
Isabela arranged herself at the edge of Bran's desk, making an effort not to look as flustered as she felt. Her legs crossed, she leaned back on the palms of her hands and leaned her head against her shoulder as if she hadn't a care in the world. But she kept her eyes on Fenris, who was pacing and brushing bits of crumbled wall off his right gauntlet.
The voice at the door was young and tentative, probably a page. "Can someone let me in? I'm to bring back Seneschal Bran's ledger, and he's going to be so cross..."
"Why must you torment me like this?" Fenris growled at her in a low voice, his face averted.
Isabela was only now realizing that he didn't mean torment in the fun way.
As if he could hear her thoughts, he went on, "Is this fun for you? Do you enjoy breaking my will? You're just like her!"
"Her who? Hawke? Look, if anything, I dragged her into this, okay? -"
He focused on her at last, advancing upon her until one taloned hand was gripping the desk at either side of her body, which brought him eye to eye with the now-wary pirate.
"You can play your games with anyone in Kirkwall, man or woman, and yet you will not leave me in peace!"
"I guess you're just irresistible, love."
"Shut up!" The lyrium embedded in the elf's skin flared to life. At this distance, Isabela could actually feel the power flowing through him. It made the hairs on her arms stand at end, like one of Anders' electric currents.
"My self-control is all that I have. Without it... I'm no better than a slave."
Isabela smiled. She still thought she could regain command of the situation, if she played her cards right. "Losing control is the best part, Fenris. It's what passion is all about."
"Woman, I assure you, you do not want me to lose control of myself."
"I think I could handle it."
Is a sudden flash of movement, faster than even the nimble pirate could react, Fenris brought his hand to her chest and shoved her down. With his taloned claws pricking painfully into her chest, he pushed her back onto the desk, the palm of his hand pinning her by the sternum.
"You think you know me? You have no idea what lives inside me," he snarled at her. "Even you cannot imagine the things that I have done."
"Um?" The voice at the door got a little louder and a little more alarmed. "What's going on in there? If you won't open the door, I'm getting the skeleton key!"
Isabela was thoroughly trapped now, an angry Fenris only inches from her face, covering her body in a cruel imitation of the pleasure they had shared only a few minutes before.
Had Isabela been anyone else, she might have been frightened. Fenris was unnaturally strong, unreasonably angry, and with the lyrium in his skin activated he looked like nothing less than a demon. He could have torn her limb from limb.
But by nature, Isabela did not get scared. She got defiant.
"Yeah, you were part of the Evil Empire, we know. You were a bodyguard for an evil magister. You've told us all about it. You killed people. You rip people's hearts out. So what? So have the rest of us, in case you haven't noticed. You've seen us gut our enemies, and not just shades and abominations, either."
"Do you really think," he hissed, shaking her, "that my duties ended there?"
She stopped short at that. A dreadful feeling pooled in the pit of her stomach. One that was not helped by that look in the elf's eyes, how they radiated pain back at her accusingly.
"You thought that was funny too, as I recall. The sordid details of my life in slavery are just another amusement for you. You must have known it was true. You have seen how vile the world can be. You know what use a cruel master will find for their servants."
She took a deep breath. "So you're never having sex again?"
He glared at her.
Unwilling to be cowed, she went on. "Fine, it's none of my business. But you think you're the only one who's suffered? You're not so special."
What was going on inside her? Isabela felt like she wanted to puke, or scream, or maybe even cry. She had an unfortunate suspicion that this was guilt. Her least favorite emotion.
She closed her eyes. "I've suffered," she said, and did not go on.
Fenris released her, stood up and backed away. She stayed lying back on the desk, staring up at the ceiling.
This wasn't what she wanted to happen at all.
When she turned her head, Fenris was no longer glowing. He had one hand up to his face, rubbing his forehead tiredly.
"I'm sorry," he said in a strange voice. "I should not have... I'm sorry, Isabela."
"No harm done," she answered, a bit less cheerfully than she intended.
"This is why... you should give up on this, both of you. Leave me in peace."
She sighed and sat up, tightening her corset once again and smoothing down her clothing, making herself at least somewhat presentable to the rest of the world.
"I will," she said, finally.
Fenris opened the office door and left.
Isabela got up off the desk, looking uncharacteristically downcast, and collected her sash, her belt, and her bandana. As she tied them all around her she could hear Hawke greeting him outside.
"Hey, where did you disappear to? Have you seen Isabela? Fenris? Where are you going? Hey!"
Then her lovely face appeared at the office door, just as the pirate was fixing the bandana around her hair. "There you are! What happened to Fenris? He looks like a kicked puppy... you kind of do too, actually, are you all right? Bela?"
"I'm fine," she said resolutely. "Let's get out of here."
She grabbed Hawke's arm and rushed the two of them out of the Viscount's Keep.
Behind them they heard one last shouting voice, and Isabela had to restrain Hawke from going back to investigate.
It said: "WHAT HAPPENED TO MY OFFICE?"
Hawke filled Isabela in about the meeting with the Viscount, a long and animated account that Isabela hardly heard. Apparently Hawke had to rush to meet with Aveline and Varric. Something about that business with the Viscount's boy, who they were going out to search for.
Of course it would involve the Qunari. Everything did, anymore.
Isabela made her excuses, and insisted on returning to the Hanged Man for now. Hawke could pick up Merrill at the alienage for today's escapade, and they could meet up the next day.
Hawke accepted her excuses, but eyed her worriedly. "What happened back there? You're going to fill me in, right?"
"Of course, kitten. Later. After your little errand."
Here they had to part; Isabela to Lowtown, Hawke to her rendezvous. The two embraced, lingeringly.
"I love you," Hawke said. "Just remember that."
Isabela didn't answer her. She never did.
She returned to the Hanged Man, got blisteringly drunk, and went to bed alone.
In retrospect, she should really have told Hawke what happened while she had the chance.