33

The Hanged Man hadn't changed. Norah, the innkeeper, remembered Isabela from her years of tenancy, and put her back in her old room. It was bizarre, to sit back on her old moth eaten mattress. Being back in Kirkwall was bad enough, being back in The Hanged Man was almost torture. She needed a drink.

"Rivaini…?" She heard Varric's voice behind her as she sat at the bar for her first pint.

She hesitated for a moment. She'd not even made it an hour before being spotted by one of Hawke's friends. Kirkwall was a damn small city. She turned to him, and put on her best air of civility. "Hello Varric. It's been a while. Pull up a seat and buy me a drink." She gestured to the empty barstool beside her.

He scrambled up the seat beside her. "I thought I saw you coming in, but I almost didn't believe it. Three years Rivaini, what are you doing back in Kirkwall?"

She shrugged. "I'm not back by choice, believe me. Most of these people would want me lynched if they knew I was here. I'm in the city for business. It will be a short stay."

Varric seemed slightly taken aback by Isabela's cold demeanour. There had been a time when they had been good friends. Great friends. "I'm sorry to hear that. Would've been nice to have you around for a while. You always found a way to stir up the most interesting trouble."

Isabela smiled bitterly. "I'm sure you, and Kirkwall, have done just fine without my particular brand of trouble."

Varric chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, maybe, but it was still fun to have you around. Have you seen... uh… anybody else…?"

They both knew who he was talking about, and Isabela had learned that life was too short to play childish word games. "No, I haven't seen her. And I don't plan to. I'd actually appreciate it if she didn't know I was here. Do you understand?"

Varric nodded. "I was going to suggest the same. I think it would be better for her if she never knew. It was… difficult… when you left. Yeah, we'll just keep it between us."

Isabela didn't want to ask the question, but her lips moved of their own accord. "Is she… well?"

She didn't know why she wanted to know. Hawke had been crowned the Champion of Kirkwall the day of the Qunari attack. Rumours of her heroics swirled from Ferelden to Tevinter. The details changed but the core remained the same, Hawke had the Free Marches by the balls.

Varric inclined his head awkwardly, trying to think of the best way to answer the question. "She's okay. Now. It's been a long three years…"

Isabela rubbed her forehead with irritation, "Meaning?"

Varric sighed. "Meaning that we waded through a river of shit to come out on the other side. What did you think it would be like for her? Her mother died, she got completely banged up in a battle, exposed as an apostate, and then you left her. It was a terrible time, and she needed her friends. She needed… you."

The waves of guilt lapped at Isabela like the ocean. "She needs me like she needs a spear through the head…" she muttered sourly.

Varric shrugged. "Maybe needed isn't the right word. Anyway, it was all years ago. Ever since she learned to walk again, she's been busy. She is… happy, I suppose… or as happy as Hawke gets, anyway. I don't know. She's definitely not the same girl that I met that day in Hightown, that much is for sure."

Isabela let the words settle in her mind. One phrase had disturbed her more than she thought possible. "She had to learn to walk again?"

Varric nodded, suddenly developing a keen interest in his pint of mead, conveniently avoiding eye contact. "Yeah… even with magic, broken backs don't heal quickly. Like I said… it was bad…"

A fresh wave of guilt bashed at her. She needed to be alone. "It was good to see you, Varric, but it's been a long day. I'm going to hit the hay. The next round is on me."

It was an unMakerly hour the next morning. Isabela had been unable to stay asleep for long, so she ventured down to the tavern and braved Norah's breakfast scramble and a pint of mead. She was regretting the decision greatly, when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She turned to see the orange hair and square jawed face of Aveline.

"Oh bugger…" Isabela murmured.

"So it's true, you did come back here, you stupid tart. I should arrest you right now for your part in the Qunari attack. We're only just recovering now, do you know that?!"

"Maker's arse, Aveline, leave me alone!" Isabela said dismissively, turning back to her breakfast.

"What are you doing here, Isabela? What trouble have you come to stir up now?"

Isabela rolled her eyes. "I'm here on business, carrot head. Now please, leave me alone"

Aveline took a seat across the table, eyeing Isabela off darkly. "So, by business, you mean something immoral, and probably illegal?" she asked, continuing her interrogation.

Isabela groaned. "Ugh. Yes. You would not approve. Now will you piss off?"

Aveline looked deeply into the pirate's eyes. "Honestly, I don't care what you're here for, Isabela, just promise me you're not here to see her."

Isabela placed her right in the air, in mock oath "I, Captain Isabela, hereby promise that I will not see Hawke. Is that better, man-chin?"

Aveline visibly relaxed upon hearing that. "You know, you had friends here, Isabela. We would've helped you, if you'd asked…"

"I don't want to talk about it, Aveline. It's in the past. I've moved on."

Aveline looked around her pointedly. "Have you? Nearly seven years I've known you, and yet here you are, sitting in the same seat, drinking the same swill, pretending that you don't care about anybody."

"That's where you're wrong. There is no pretense. I really don't care."

Aveline nodded. "I believed that about you once. Until I saw you with her. You loved her, and you let her love you back. And we all watched as that selfish pirate whore started to disappear. Tell yourself whatever eases your conscience, Isabela, I don't really care. But leave her alone. You did more harm than you can imagine."

Isabela rolled her eyes again. "Yes Ser!"

Aveline stood and began to walk off, but turned back at the last moment. "It was good to see you again, Isabela. Whatever our differences, I wish you no harm, and I'm glad that you're well." And with that she disappeared through the tavern door.