It was cold in the Bone Pit. It wasn't something that bothered a person much when climbing over rocks and stabbing things, but sitting in one place would gradually turn a man's bones to ice. One could see their own breaths hang in the air, were there enough light to see them by.

Fenris had waited there so long that he had stopped feeling cold awhile ago; now he just hurt. Muscles cramped and complained at their misuse. He didn't mind it much. Pain was familiar company to him, and a welcome distraction.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here anymore. All of the certainty he had yesterday was slipping away, steadily replaced by doubt. It was a growing emptiness in him, as though the cold had seeped completely through and turned his insides to ice.

Hope had not left him completely. He just had to work a little harder to remember it. It was a sensation he associated with Hawke, who had taught him to feel it. Who had given it to him, that sense of peace and security and calm strength.

I cannot leave. Hawke needs someone to be here.

There was another part of him that was always there, quieter than it used to be, but threatening to surge back to prominence. Bitter and angry.

But she doesn't needyou. She has never needed you.

But I am the only one here. If I go, there will be no one. I cannot leave.

He rubbed at his fingers absently, to try to alleviate the prickling sensation. They felt like ice.

I knew this would happen. Goodness doesn't prosper. Only the wicked and the cruel survive in this world. I know it better than anyone. I warned her so many times. If only she had listened...

Hawke could survive this. If anyone could, she can.

But what if she didn't?

What if she's really gone?

What if she's...?

Fenris opened his eyes to escape the morose tangle of his thoughts, and looked around the dim light of the chamber. His eyes alit on Isabela kneeling besides the pit. She hadn't said a word to him, and he had forgotten entirely about her.

His eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. He couldn't put a finger on it at first, but something about her kneeling there struck him as terribly strange, even without being able to see her face. Until he finally noticed that her shoulders were shaking, and he realized that Isabela was crying.

Isabela. Crying.

Somewhere in Thedas a river was running backwards, and fish were flying, and rain fell up instead of down, because Isabela the Pirate Queen was crying.

The sight struck a note of sympathy within him that had not sounded for any of the others. He had never seen her look quite so small before. Normally her obnoxious personality filled the entire room, made her seem huge and imposing. Something in her had collapsed, deflated her. A private grief that seemed so similar to his own.

He was so startled by this discovery that it took some time for him to realize that he should probably be doing something about this. Not that he actually knew what to do about a crying person. That was generally a problem best left to someone else.

It seemed a serious invasion of her privacy for him to be here at all.

But he couldn't just sit there. He actually liked Isabela, and she was crying. This was terrible. He was the only one there; he would have to do.

He forced himself up to his feet, hoping they would not give out on him (he could barely feel the stone beneath him, they were so cold).

She didn't seem to hear him coming at first. She had covered her face with both hands, clearly trying to muffle the sound. Then she was wiping at her face furiously, glancing over her shoulder.

Fenris was not especially fond of touching other people, but they seemed to appreciate it. So he put out his hand and touched her arm lightly. "Isabela?"

Before he could realize what was happening, she had jumped up to her feet and was embracing him, collapsing her wet face over his shoulder. Startled, he backed up a few paces, pulling her along with him.

He realized he should probably be hugging her back - that was what people did to comfort each other, right? - and he extended his arms around her. She was a fair bit taller than him, and she had to stoop awkwardly to rest her head against him. But she did not pull away, and sobbed openly into his neck.

It was strange to hold her like this. Strange, but... not terrible.

Eventually the Rivaini's weeping slowed, until she was quiet again and only sniffling. Then, abruptly, she pulled away.

Isabela crossed the room, still wiping at her face, and settled herself down to the floor where Fenris had been sitting previously, looking tense and irritable.

When he stood over her, she glared.

"What?" Now she was exasperated with him, for some reason. "Oh, don't get all... I'm fine! Sorry for crying all over you."

He was going to say you're in my spot, but decided against it.

Isabela brushed her wild brown hair behind her ears, her mouth settling into a hard line. "Look, don't tell anyone, okay? This didn't happen."

Fenris sank down next to her. "Who would I tell?"

"... point."

They sat together in silence for some time.

"It's just..." Isabela started to say. "The things she did for me. Things no one else would ever have done. Not even my own rotten kin ever fought for me like she did. I never really repaid her for it."

"I feel the same," Fenris said.

"Let me tell you a secret," she smiled. "You know how I always said I'd get Hawke into bed one day?"

He nodded.

"Actually... I already did. Years ago."

That is... very unlikely, Fenris thought. Surely everyone in the city would have heard about it if that happened. The pirate would have shouted it from the rooftops.

"It was before she and Anders became a thing. I didn't tell anyone about it because... well." Isabela looked away from him, wiping at her eyes. "She just kept flirting with me all that time, so I finally called her on it. I showed up at her place and promised her a good time. After all her bawdy talk I thought she'd be plenty experienced, but it turned out that actually, she'd never been with anybody. Like, anybody. I was her first time."

"And she made you promise not to tell?"

"No, actually. She never said anything like that. It's funny, I… normally I would tell everyone in sight about something like that but… This was... really special to me. This, I wanted to keep for myself."

Isabela pulled the bandana from her hair and stared at it for a moment, remembering that night.

"What about you," she went on hastily, "you have any secrets about Hawke? You two spent a lot of time together..."

"Secrets?" He pondered for awhile, and then smiled. "Yes, I know one. She did make me promise never to tell, though."

He watched Isabela wiping at her face, and thought that Hawke would hate to see her so sad. She would understand.

"Hawke had a... hidden talent."

"Is that a euphemism for something?"

"No. She was an excellent cook."

Isabela snorted, through her tears. "You're pulling my leg."

"No, it's true. She cooked for me once, just to prove that the kitchen in my manor was perfectly functional and I ought to use it. I don't know what it was she made…" (he gestured vaguely) "a fluffy egg thing. And some kind of pastry. It was delicious."

"Hawke cooked? No way. She hated all that frilly girl stuff."

"That's why it was a secret. She said if people knew she could cook, she'd have to do it all the time. When she would rather be out adventuring and fighting."

"That sounds more like her."

"She said when she got too old to beat people up anymore, she would open a bakery, just to see the look on people's faces."

Hawke growing old... the image flashed into his mind and refused to leave. Her long blonde hair turned white, with crinkles around her eyes and smile lines on her face.

He had to wipe at his own eyes with the back of his hand.

Isabela took over the thought. "You know, I always thought she would end up with you eventually. You were good together. But nothing happened?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"Did you ever think it might?"

"No." But he smiled at the idea. "I was proud to be her friend, and happy for that. There was never going to be anything more. I would have..." - he faltered at this, then went on - "I would have welcomed it, but I knew it would never happen."

"I don't know about that. Stranger things have happened."

Isabela straightened, assuming a more familiar expression. Standing, she brushed the dirt from her clothes and refixed her bandana in her hair, set her jaw and smiled determinedly.

"Don't worry about me," she said down to him. "Nothing phases me. I'll be fine. But what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"You'll be fine," she said, as though declaring it could make it so. "Look me up when you get back to Kirkwall, all right?"

He nodded his acknowledgement, promising no more.

Isabela left him alone in the Bone Pit. Which was not what Varric had said to do, but no matter. She knew Fenris would be all right.

Once again, Fenris sat alone in the Bone Pit, on the afternoon of the last day.