24

Isabela was let in by the elven serving girl, Orana. She didn't need to ask where Hawke was, she walked straight up the staircase to her bedroom. She found Hawke on the bed, head in hands, weeping. Isabela had never seen anyone look so broken. "I… uh… I feel I should say... something…"

Hawke startled, and looked up. They made eye contact, and Hawke responded. "It's okay, Isabela, you don't need to be here. I know you're not good with... emotional stuff."

Isabela took a few tentative steps towards the bed. "I'd like to be here for you, if you'll let me."

Hawke nodded stiffly, and her face crumpled.

Isabela took a seat beside her on the bed, and struggled to find the words. She didn't have much expertise when it came to mothers. "At least you know that your mother loved you, not everybody can say that."

Hawke nodded. "Yes, she did love me. She was the only person left in the world that did."

Isabela felt the forbidden three-word phrase tingling the tip of her tongue, but she refused to say it. That would complicate things inextricably. She compromised. "You can't believe that, Hawke. There are still people that love you… like… Aveline."

Hawke looked over with red rimmed, puffy eyes. "Was it my fault?"

Isabela sighed and snaked her arm around Hawke's waist, and Hawke leaned her head on Isabela's shoulder. Isabela took Hawke's hand in her own, and interlocked their fingers. The smell of Hawke's hair entered Isabela's nostrils, and she found herself overcome by emotion. "No, it wasn't your fault, sweet thing. You couldn't have known."

"My mother, she should have grown up here. She should have been rich, and married a lord. Instead, she gave it all up to spend her life on the run, living in poverty, protecting me and my sister. Magic was a curse for her, and now, it's the reason that she's dead. And I have to live with it coursing through my veins like poison, for the rest of my life."

Isabela gently kissed Hawke's forehead. "Don't think like that. Your mother made choices. This murderer made choices. None of them are your fault. Your power is a gift. You are a great mage, Hawke."

Hawke sniffled. "You wouldn't say that if you saw what I did to him. I tore him into pieces with my magic. I never even knew I could do that. And… I enjoyed it."

Isabela stroked Hawke's hand with her thumb. "I'm sure you did. You're only human. He killed your mother, and countless others. Some people don't deserve a quick death, Hawke."

Isabela was confused by the close proximity, the physical intimacy, the affection. She wanted to take back every word she'd said at The Hanged Man. She wanted to lie down and go to sleep with Hawke in her arms. But she couldn't. Wouldn't. So she stayed still, and let Hawke's tears soak her shoulder.

After they sat there for a long time, Hawke lifted her head. She turned towards Isabela, and tentatively kissed her. Isabela let her. She could taste the salty tears on Hawke's lips as she gently kissed her back. Hawke's kiss intensified, and she moved her hand to the lacing on Isabela's tunic.

Isabela broke away. "Hawke… I… This doesn't change anything."

Hawke nodded, her words so filled with tears that they were hard to decipher. "I know, I just… don't want to be lonely tonight."

Isabela brushed a piece of hair away from Hawke's downcast face. "You're not alone, sweet thing. Lie back and relax…" she said, peeling off Hawke's blood stained robes.

She kissed her way down Hawke's body, stopping briefly every few moments to wipe away a fresh tear. As she got between Hawke's legs and tasted her sweet, soapy flesh, she realised how much she missed being with the mage. More than she'd ever missed anything in her life. Hawke was incredibly quiet while Isabela went about pleasing her, and just as the pirate was wondering if she still had what it takes, Hawke's thighs gave their tell-tale clench. Instead of a moan, Hawke let out a sob, and Isabela knew that the distraction had only been brief.

Sex would not cut it tonight, and Isabela would have to offer Hawke the comfort that she'd been avoiding. Love. Isabela lay down beside her, as Hawke whimpered softly "I'm sorry."

Hawke put a hand into Isabela's top, clumsily cupping her breast, but Isabela took her hand and removed it. "Don't. This isn't about me, Hawke."

Hawke rolled over and scrunched into the fetal position, while Isabela snuggled into her back, wrapping an arm around her waist, and stroking her sweet smelling hair. Isabela stayed until Hawke finally closed her eyes. She had never seen another person cry themselves to sleep, and it was probably the most intimate thing she'd ever done with anyone. She covered Hawke's naked body up with a blanket, and slowly moved off the bed.

Her chest ached with longing, and regret.

She had already restarted her search, but now, she would have to have to double her efforts. She needed to find the lost relic and get out of Kirkwall. Immediately. She needed to get away from this girl.