Kirkwall's Docks were not generally considered to be one of the city's top attractions. The district was filthy, noisy, and smelly, as all such places are. They were also home to the most smugglers and criminals per square inch in the entire Free Marches.

Your average stroll along the boardwalk tended to end with a mugging, followed by the spectacle of watching your muggers duke it out with assailants of their own – a struggle during which, on a particularly nice day, you would be able to flee with your lives. The shipyards were a honeycomb of crime, housing stolen goods of every conceivable variety. Even legitimate businesses were often run by criminals moonlighting as harbormasters and sailors, as the notion took them. Periodically large sectors of the Docks would burn down, set ablaze either by their own proprietors, when they had decided to move along, or by rival gangs.

All of which gave a haphazard air to the place, with most buildings looking cobbled together on the fly, most walkways rotting into the water, and what ships were docked there a pitiful display. Some of the higher class of ships traveling to Kirkwall had been known to skip over the harbor altogether, convinced that this could not possible be their destination. In short, the docks were right alongside the Darktown slums in terms of reputation in the city.

Isabela, of course, loved them.

The docks were her kingdom, and the people there were her people. Ruffians, vagrants, crooks, runaways, whatever their race, they were her tribe. In these circles, Captain Isabela was well known, and her exploits legendary. She could walk onto any ship here and be recognized. About half of those who spotted her wanted to kill her, true, but it was still nice to be noticed.

She loved to walk along the docks at night, smelling the salty air, contemplating the occasional bloated corpse floating in its waters. And if the occasional sneak-thief should find the courage to challenge her, she was only too happy to add another body to the harbor.

Most of all, the docks were the ideal place to come for information, which was traded here like any other product. One just needed coin in their pockets, gossip of their own to offer, and their most winning smile - and a bit of cleavage had never hurt. Armed with that, there was nothing she couldn't hear of here, whether the news came from the Viscount's keep in Hightown, the most sacred offices of the Chantry, the back rooms of the Blooming Rose, or from just over the high fences that enclosed the Qunari camp.

It was this last that had Isabela questing in the shipyards today, looking for word of a priceless Qunari holy book that she had held in her own hands not four years ago. The last she had heard, the book was being traded from one band of smugglers to another, none of whom had any real idea what the thing even was. It should have been obvious that the book was Qunari, being of such a great size, but no one of sufficient brainpower had held the thing as yet. That was the clock she was racing against, for as soon as someone realized they could sell the book back to the Qunari at a sizeable reward, she was as good as dead.

Time was running out for her. She had let Hawke distract her from her one goal in Kirkwall, to find the relic and take back her life. Now, years later, she still had no relic, and Castillon meant to have her head for it. Worse, the Qunari refused to leave the city, were more and more visible and troublesome all the time, and if any of them recognized her she was going to have a very big problem.

Worst of all, she had never told Hawke the truth about her lost relic. If she'd told her about it years ago, that would have been one thing. But too much time had passed now. The longer you waited to reveal something unpleasant, the worse it got, and the more a more-or-less innocent omission came to resemble an out-and-out lie.

Now Hawke was dangerously involved with the Qunari, was even acquainted with Arishok himself, and Isabela could not bring herself to tell her that the very thing that brought them to Kirkwall - the thing that would allow them to leave - was the thing she needed to save her own neck.

She honestly didn't know what Hawke was going to do when she found out.

Hawke was loyal, and you could always count on her in a pinch. But for a sneak-thief she had a pesky moral streak that surfaced at the strangest times. It could be damned inconvenient having a lover with scruples, when you've dedicated pretty much your whole life to criminal enterprise.

It wasn't like Hawke was going to turn her in or anything. But she could start making certain demands. And that, if it happened, was going to rapidly bring an end to this… whatever they had going.

Marian was technically a Lady now. They joked about that all the time, especially when she was covered in blood and dirt, or when Isabela had her in a particularly compromising position. But it was getting less and less funny now, the longer she stayed in Hightown and rubbed shoulders with the Grand Cleric and the people who ran Kirkwall.

It was hard to gage how long it would be before Marian tired of this life and went domestic like her mother always wanted. Started going to balls and sipping tea in drawing rooms and cooing over lacey infants. Started acting like a respectable member of Society. That would be the end of Fun Times for Isabela and Hawke. Time to move along.

Isabela tried not to give that particular day much thought. It was coming, someday. But not yet. Hopefully not yet.

If she could just get ahold of that relic and get it back to Castillon, everything would settle down. Then the Qunari could chase HIM to wherever he went next, and they could all be someone else's problem.

So there she sat, rolling dice with a braintrust of muscled men, casually dropping reference to big scores and foreign goods and letting them look down her shirt - although if any of these grubby sorts got touchy, she would slice their fingers off. She had already helped them move some merchandise into Darktown earlier in the week through some of her own contacts, so she was in a favorable position. These guys had the goods, if not the smarts, to get ahold of the valuable prize that was hiding somewhere in Kirkwall, once she had persuaded them that this was exactly what they needed.

And then she saw Marian.

She only saw her for a second, just a shadow crossing the wall above that revealed someone hiding behind the topmost row of crates. There was no shadow she knew half so well as that one. It was Marian, there, in the warehouse, spying on her. Marian, who would look like a prize beauty no matter how many layers of dirt concealed her, who attracted attention just taking out the garbage. And though an excellent burglar and pickpocket, if spotted she was in no way convincing as a denizen of the docks.

Marian was going to blow her cover.

Steaming, Isabela struggled out of the crowd of cheering men playing at dice. "Out of the way, boys," she said breezily, shoving one of them aside. "Off to take a piss."

"Need any help?" Several men offered this assistance at once, and just as though it were the cleverest thing they had ever thought.

"S'allright. Maybe John there will let you hold it for him next time."

An agreeable sort of roar followed behind her as Isabela barreled out of a side door into the night and hovered in the shadows there until the door slid silently open one more time and Marian slipped out.

"What in blazes are you doing here, Hawke?"

Marian panted for a moment before answering. Her hands clasped her knees as she bent forward, clearly winded. "Bela... I've been looking everywhere for you..."

Isabela crossed her arms and glared at her, irritated. "I told you I would be home again when I was finished here. You're blowing all the work I've been doing."

"Is it... the relic... again?" Hawke said, still gasping.

"Have you been looking in every warehouse in the shipyard looking for me? Maker's balls, Hawke, you've probably got every smuggler in Kirkwall out looking for you!"

The shorter rogue waved off her concerns. "Not all the warehouses… Maybe all the ones on the East side. And I wasn't spotted, don't worry. It's just... my lungs that are on fire this time... oh dear, I can't even pun very well..."

"I can't have you following me around like this! How many times have I -"

"Listen! I'm not - It's something important, really it is. I didn't know how to contact you and I needed you right away, tonight..."

"Another quest? Haven't you got a whole host of noble warriors at your fingertips for whatever do-gooding you've got planned?"

"Not an errand, Bela..." Hawke straightened, now that she had recovered somewhat from the night's chase. "It's Fenris."

Isabela froze. "What about him?"

Hawke grinned hugely. "It's showtime!"

"What?"

"It's a go. We are cleared to proceed. Well, ok, not entirely, but..."

"Blast it, Hawke, you have the worst timing I have ever seen." Isabela looked around. No one had followed them out, but it wouldn't be long before one of her new pals came looking for her. "We'd better have this conversation on the go," she said, grabbing Hawke's arm.

"I'm sorry, Bela, I thought you'd want to know right away," Hawke hissed back guiltily. She allowed her lover to drag her down the alley to the water, where the sound of the tide would drown out their conversation somewhat.

"It has to be tonight, that's the condition," Hawke continued, quieter. "If we wait any longer he might change his mind."

Isabela didn't reply. She was urging them along the harbor, stomping across the wooden planks towards solid ground ahead.

"I went to see him, and I - Oh Bela, I wish you'd been there with me, I got a good long look at him without his armor and he is delicious-"

"Shhh." Isabela held them still a moment while a group of shapes crossed their path, heading to their own shady destination.

Hawke, as she often did, rested her chin against her lover's shoulder, finding it this time stiff and unyielding. Isabela shrugged her off when they could move again and they walked the rest of the way to the dock's entrance in silence.

"I'm sorry if I spoiled your investigation, Bela. If we can just get back to Hightown I'll explain along the way."

"You said... Fenris agreed to go to bed with us? He really did?"

"Well, in a way." Hawke was smiling again, her excitement bubbling up in that adorable effervescent way of hers. "I asked him if he'd rather watch us have sex, you know, the way you said you used to do when you were in Orlais? When you had people cheering you on? I said we could do that instead, and he said he'd think about it, and then later he stopped me and said he'd do it, but only if we did it tonight. So I ran out and went looking for you and I said I'd be back in an hour and that was hours ago so we really need to hurry. Come on!"

Hawke grabbed her hand and started towards Hightown.

But Isabela resisted. "I... I don't know about this, Hawke."

Marian turned around slowly, a disbelieving look on her face.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe we shouldn't."

"… Are you KIDDING me?"

"I just think it might not be a good idea."

Now it was Marian's turn to be irritated.

"Isn't that what I was saying when we started all this?"

"Yes, and I should have listened to you, okay?"

"But we did it anyway! And now that he finally agrees, now you want to back off?"
Hawke took a few steps back and put her hands on her hips, in a classic Hawke pose of disapproval. "This is about what happened at the Viscount's Keep, isn't it? What happened between you two?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

"He said to ask you."

"Ugh, of course he did."

"Did you have sex?"

"In Bran's office? No!"

"Something happened!"

"We only made out a little on top of Bran's desk!"

"What?"

"But he freaked out on me afterwards! He went all glowy and rage-y and he punched the wall and he said we needed to stop bothering him, and I said okay."

"You said what?"

"I said we'd leave him alone, okay?"

"When were you going to tell me about this?"

"I didn't know you were going to go over there while I was gone!"

"Well I did! And he's changed his mind!"

"Well I haven't!" Isabela lowered her voice, hoping Hawke would stop shouting. "He's a little too real for me, okay? He has an awful lot of... feelings, you know? I don't need any more of those."

"Oh good grief. Isabela, you said we were going to taunt him until he broke! And he broke! And now you want to abandon him? That's really shitty!"

"That's what I do." Isabela did her best impression of a jaunty smile. "Men are entertainment. When they aren't fun anymore, I move on. You know this about me, kitten."

"I know it. I don't have to like it. Not when it's one of our friends."

"I don't need this shit, get me? He wants to be moody and alone, fine. All I wanted was a little fun, not all this angsty crap. This isn't fun anymore, Hawke. Fenris is... he's like a stray cat; he'll either bite our heads off or follow us home. If we take him home now, we'll never get rid of him."

Hawke answered her steadily. "Maybe I'm all right with that."

That stopped Isabela's tirade short. "You what?"

"I support you, Bela, I want you to be free to do what you want. You always say that I'm free to take on other lovers if I want. Well, I want this. And I think you owe it to me."

"Fuck him then," Isabela said coldly. "I don't care."

"That's not what I want. I want it to be the three of us. Like we always said. Just try it, just this once. If it doesn't go well, that will be the end of it."

Isabela shook her head and stared up at the stars for a long moment. She hated, hated more than anything, to be pushed. Even if it was something she once wanted, even maybe still wanted, to some degree. Her strongest instinct at times like this was to dig in her heels and refuse.

But she was terrible at refusing Marian. Always had been, from the very moment Marian had first walked into the Hanged Man and smiled at her. Even without looking, Isabela knew exactly the look that was on her face, the set of her jaw. She would have that longing look in her eyes, the one whose intensity sent a chill down Isabela's spine and made her simultaneously want to run for the hills and throw the woman down to the ground and have her way with her.

"Damn it, Marian."

"Please, Bela?"

"..."

"Please."

"All right. All right! Fine. But just remember that I said this was a bad idea."

And that was the last thing either of them said on the way to Fenris's Manor.