When they arrived at Fenris's manor, it was considerably more than an hour since Marian had left him. When she banged at the door, no one answered.

Isabela directed her most powerfully incredulous expression at Hawke, hoping that perhaps now they could give up and go away. But once Hawke was into this stubborn sort of mood there was no dissuading her, and she was almost immediately setting upon the door with her lockpicks. Eventually she was successful, and the door creaked open into a dark and empty mansion.

Isabela peered skeptically into the darkness. "Perhaps he went to the Hanged Man. Let's go check."

"He'll be upstairs. I hope he hasn't given up on us." Tentatively, Hawke took Isabela's hand. "Thank you for coming," she said.

"It's all right, love," Isabela relented.

"I hate fighting with you."

"Was that a fight? That wasn't a fight."

"Whatever it was, I'm glad you're here now."

"Sure."

In the long walk to Hightown, Isabela had some time to think it over, and calm down. She was still apprehensive, but admittedly curious about what was about to happen. If it happened.

Hand in hand, Hawke and Isabela walked up the long stairway to the great hall and from there to the upper room where Fenris spent his time, where Hawke had left him hours before.

At first, there appeared to be no sign of him. The ornate armchair beside the fireplace, the one he generally occupied, was empty. But a fire blazed on the hearth, and much of the refuse that normally cluttered the place had been cleared away, leaving a long open space in front of the fire. A long, soft-looking fur had appeared, folded neatly and unobtrusively next to the armchair.

When Isabela's eyes adjusted to the light, she spotted Fenris, sitting almost entirely in shadow, just out of the firelight's reach.

He was looking steadily at them with an unreadable expression.

Beside him were three bottles of wine, one of them empty and a second half-full. Whether he had been drinking them to prepare for their arrival, or after concluding that they would not be coming, it was impossible to guess. Perhaps both in sequence.

He cleared his throat. "I was not sure you were coming."

Hawke stepped forward. "Sorry, Fenris. It took awhile to locate Isabela."

"Are you sure you want to be here? To do this?"

From his knowing stare, Isabela knew this last was directed at her. After what happened, now that she had seen some of what he was, did she still want to be a part of this?

"Sure," she answered flippantly. "I've got nothing better to do."

Hawke shot her a dirty look.

"Proceed, then."

Hmph. Charming. Isabela had heard worse come-ons than that, but not many. "Any requests?" she asked him, smirking.

Fenris shrugged, and settled back in his chair where he was almost invisible in the dim light.

"Fine." Isabela turned to Marian. "What would you like, kitten? It's your show."

"I- I don't know," she stammered, her eyes darting over to the shadows where Fenris sat.

Great. Just great.

Had they made no plans for how this would go? Discussed expectations? Set boundaries? Even Hawke, who was so eager to do this, hadn't given a thought to what exactly would happen here. They should really have discussed it on the way over. Maybe if they hadn't argued about whether this would happen at all, they could have worked something out.

Why was nothing ever easy with these two? Isabela was accustomed to a much simpler arrangement. One where everyone came in with an itch to be scratched and left happy, and if they didn't, they would rarely see each other again if ever, so who cared? Here the stakes were considerably higher, which was not the sort of game Isabela excelled at.

Isabela tried her best to make out Fenris's expression in the shadows. As far as she could tell, he looked completely impassive, almost disinterested. She wondered again how Hawke had convinced him to do this. Did he really want them there?

It was his posture that convinced her otherwise. Fenris had a face for bluffing, always had. She had personally seen him blot out his own expressions with practiced ease, like with Hawke in Varric's suite, and the way he had cleared the desire from his face and left no trace behind. When she remembered that, and watched the way he was sitting, the way his hands fidgeted at his sides, she knew he was about as far from dispassionate as one could be. He was nervous. No, he was... eager. That was the word. He had some of that twitchy anticipation she had grown used to seeing in him before a battle, and the wariness that came with the possibility of injury. Though injury from what, she couldn't say.

Even Hawke, poor dear, looked incredibly nervous. In all likelihood it had not occurred to her until this very moment what it would really mean to have an audience. Awkwardness in the course of sex was very quickly forgivable, when there was so much pleasure with which to distract a lover from your shortcomings. Someone who was watching, and only watching, would be different. They would have absolutely nothing else to do but look at, and think about, all of the things you were doing. All of your physical flaws. All of the clumsiness and crudeness of your passion. It was a very vulnerable position to be in. Bless her; she looked like a rabbit staring down a crossbow.

A surge of affection swam through her at that moment, for both Hawke and Fenris. They were both of them counting on her to sail them through these waters.

Well, if there was one thing she could do, it was navigate a storm.

She smiled at her lover. "Let's start this with a kiss, then."

The long kiss that followed bolstered Isabela's confidence further. Hawke seemed to melt into her arms, her easy softness yielding to the pirate's demanding embrace. Her arms about the smaller woman's waist held her fast, even as her hands caressed the smooth fur along her back. Hawke's busy hands twisted in the Rivanni's hair, making encouraging little circles against the back of her neck as they kissed. Their tongues met and caressed in soft, long strokes.

A familiar sense of command and authority expanded within her, crowding out the uncertainty Isabela had brought to the manor.

This show may not have been her idea, but she would fulfill their expectations; oh yes. She'd give the elf a sight to remember, all right, and something Hawke would not soon forget.

Isabela released her lover with a reassuring smile and strode purposefully to the folded fur that had been so tempting her since she entered the room. It was even larger than she had guessed thick and creamy white. She purred happily as she pressed it to her cheek.

"So soft! What is it?"

Fenris was done talking, it seemed. He had just finished taking a pull directly from a wine bottle and stopped only to glower at her in that ferocious way of his.

"Ah! There! Keep doing that!" She laughed at him, freezing him in place with the palms of her hands like a magic spell. "That growly look. It's wonderfully inspiring."

That was when she knew she was completely in control of the situation, when Fenris settled back silently with a wary expression and just the slightest upward quirk to his lips.

Smirking, Isabela spread the lovely fur across the floor in front of the fire. She had an enchanting vision in mind of a naked Marian splayed against the fur and moaning in rapture.

This was going to take some work to accomplish, since the woman was wearing entirely too much clothing. She had dressed for action to go out looking for Isabela, and was covered nearly from head to toe in leather and metal. Her soft brown leather sleeves ended at the wrist in sleek black gloves that exposed only an index finger on either hand. Similarly, the same smooth brown hide concealed her thighs down to the metal bracers along her shins, and her heavy metal boots. Her black fox's jerkin was pleasingly form-fitting but had entirely too many fastenings, stays, and sashes for Isabela's taste - she preferred clothing designed for easy access. This getup drove Isabela crazy for the time it took to remove, as she had often complained in the past. She had to wonder if Hawke had chosen it on purpose tonight.

Marian was looking down at the white fur uncertainly. Isabela could see the wheels turning in her head. Should she sit down on the fur? Lie down on it? Take off her clothes first? Or should she be kissing her instead?

"Stop with the thinking, Marian," Isabela cautioned her fondly, crossing to her side of the rug.

"Easier said than done," she answered softly. Her eyes still darted to Fenris's corner.

Isabela caught her chin in her hands, redirecting Hawke's gaze. "Oh, I think I can distract you."