The Rogue's Conquest
Chapter Three.
"Andraste's knicker weasels, if they really want us to believe they're here 'peacefully', they'd at least wait until noon to start up that incessant drumming." Marian Hawke groused. "I mean what are they on about anyways? Peacocking through the bloody city like they already own it!" With her legs propped atop stacks of missives and ledgers that had once been a refinished, cherry oak writing desk, Marian leaned back in her chair, her head pounding to the drumbeat emanating from the streets below. It had started in the wee hours of dawn, first it was a soft thrumming from the docks, then a more persistent throbbing, like a mild toothache, and now it was a full on barrage of hammering that was about as subtle as a charging bull… A very angry, armed to the teeth, army of charging bulls, that only served to remind Marian how stupid she was for allowing a full battalion of "elite Templars" into Kirkwall. "It'll be good for the city I said, it'll be fun I said." Growling at herself, Marian threw her legs from the desk, pushing her chair away from the disheveled papers her sudden outburst left in it's wake. The chair squealed across the hardwood floor, toppling over as Marian left it to pace her chamber. She started at the balcony doors, joining Isabela for a brief moment to survey the scene of Templars below, and then, at the sight of all the shimmering, white armour she crossed the room in ten breakneck steps to the entrance of her quarters. How foolish she'd been to think that anything could puncture such a solid wall of hatred and fear. She had welcomed these Templars into her city, and had high hopes for peace when the initial number of whitecoats was only in the hundreds, but within a few days, like great, white locust, they had descended upon Kirkwall, their numbers growing everyday. At last count the number had reached two thousand in the city alone. With this new regiments arrival it would likely double that tally. Four thousand soldiers for a simple query? "Not bleeding likely."
"I'm surprised that you don't have a hole worn into your floor, Hawke." Isabela murmured, leaning a shoulder on the glass of the balcony doors. Marian could feel the pirate queen's eyes studying her. "There's no sense raking yourself over the coals. Taking it up the arse from the Divine won't be that bad. By the looks of the Templars outside she certainly knows how to pick her men, if nothing else we can say the material she's so graciously saddled us with is snog worthy."
"Ack, men?" Marian questioned with disbelief as she glimpsed over Isabela's shoulders to spy the group of soldiers loitering below. "MEN! You say? They look more like frightened pups to me. Cornered, snarling pups, but pups just the same. How embarrassing it must be for Justinia that her "Elite" is made up of nothing more than boys, unready for the duties they're being told to perform." Throwing her arms up, Marian sighed, halting her brief surge of lunacy mid-rant. "Good Morning B." She said more calmly then she felt, her eyes taking in the woman before her for the first time since they'd awoken. Standing relaxed, as maddeningly usual, with her hip cocked to one side, her arms crossed beneath her breasts and caramel eyes focused on the streets below, Isabela painted a stunning picture. Morning was always the best time to truly glimpse her, the best way in Marian's opinion anyways. In the first rays of light the pirate queen was stripped down, with no trace of make-up, rocking bed head and not a single golden bauble in sight. She wore a silk sheet stolen from the bed, tied loosely above her breasts and left to cascade down over the voluptuous curves of her body, it's white sheen a stark contrast to her tanned skin. She was real. In Marian's bedchamber, Isabela wasn't the normally "saucy slattern" she made herself out to be. Here she was just a woman. Vulnerable…Beautiful.
"Good morning indeed." Purred Isabela, letting the sheet dip, just a little lower to tease as she touched her index finger beneath Marian's chin and lifted it gently until their eyes met. "This isn't the end of the world, Hawke." Isabela assured, "just another upheaval, like the Blight, or the deep roads, The Qunari…" She trailed off, something tethering her eyes back to the icy world below "By the Gods." She drawled her demeanor changing from angel to temptress in the blink of an eye. "Would you take a look at that one Hawke! The Divine may have sent boys, but Andraste's flaming knickers, if that's not a MAN," Isabela crudely gestured, her hands measuring such an outrageous length the Arishok would be jealous. "I don't know what is." Arching a disbelieving eyebrow at the pirate's approval, but unable to help her curiosity, Marian pushed her way in front of her awestruck lover to get a glimpse of what such a spectacular specimen could possibly look like. Who on earth could make the Queen of Hearts - a nickname Marian had lovingly taken to calling the pirate with the laundry list of broken hearts left in her wake – own heart stop?
The sense of foreboding hit her a millisecond before the bolt of lightening raced down her spine, a familiar zing of electricity that had once lit a dangerous flame within her. A flame that had been dormant for so long she'd nearly forgotten it ever existed to begin with. "Gods! Noooo!" Marian choked out. Her eyes blinked rapidly, her brain not willing to get on board with what her heart had already begun to accept. "You traitorous asshole." A ferocious voice howled in her head as her hand shot up to claw at the skin protecting the offending piece of organ. Bile bubbled up into her throat, burning like acid and tears rimmed her eyes. "A dream! This has to be a dream." Wildly, Marian began pinching her forearm; crimson welts appearing each more painful than the last. What a confusing scene she had to be making for Isabela. But she couldn't help it, couldn't seem to rein in her torrential fuck storm of emotions. "Wake up, Mari. Wake up now! Please! He's not real, he can't be real." She pleaded as a single tear escaped, streaking down her cheek. Sheer panic took her over as his haunting eyes met her own. She'd spent what felt like a lifetime recalling those dancing orbs… Dreaming of them… She had to get out of here, had to… She wasn't sure; she'd never made a plan B for this situation. Never in a million ages did Marian believe he'd cross her path again. Yet, there he was, as handsome as the devil… And who could look past the cold irony that he'd come to Marian as her enemy?
"Marian? You look like you're going to pass out sweet thing. Are you alright?" Isabela's concern was palpable, panicking Marian further, and as Bela reached out to comfort her, Marian feigned left, ducking right to snake away from the pirate queen's grasp only to find herself twisted up in the silk sheet Isabela wore, yanking the thin fabric down as she went, it's wispy threads wrapped around Marian's flailing limbs like grubby tentacles, crashing her to the ground. She struggled hard, desperate as if wrestling a hungry lion.
"Hawke!" She heard Isabela's alarm, the confusion making her voice shrill, as her deft hands tried to release Marian from the cacoon prison. "Relax, Mari! I can't help you if you're fighting me. Tell me what's happening?"
"Tell her?" As if Marian even knew where to begin to explain. No! She had to get out. Had to compose herself and then she'd meet Sebastian Vael head on, like she had every challenge before this. With any luck he wouldn't recognize her. Wait! She'd make sure he wouldn't recognize her. There was nothing left of the little maid she'd been. She was Marian Hawke for fuck sakes, her name meant something now. SHE! Meant something now! Resolved and faintly reassured, she stopped struggling, calmed her breathing and halted her blubbering, allowing Isabela to help her up. Meeting her lover's wide, concerned eyes, Marian hardened her own and shrugged sheepishly, forcing a smile to her lips. "I…" She started, and then stopped snapping her mouth shut. No explanation in the world, beyond the truth, could possibly make sense. And Marian knew Isabela better than she knew the back of her own hand. The Pirate Queen was far too cunning to accept any poor lie Marian could pick from the clouds. So without a sound, she bent over, grabbing the sheet from the ground, where it had just given her the beat down of a lifetime, and handed it to Isabela. With that done she turned on her heel, collected her dress, shoes and baubles from the night before, where she and Isabela had left them scattered, and made for the door. Since she had to greet Sebastian, she'd greet him in her best, instead of the boy slacks and oversized shirt she wore now.
"You have secrets Hawke." Isabela admonished.
"Don't we all?" Marian responded, before leaving the safety of her chambers.
8-8-8
Marian watched out her balcony doors, pleased to be back in the warmth of her private quarters. Her heart was still pounding furiously and she found herself grateful for the first time, that Isabela had vacated the room, though Marian suspected that her always-inquisitive lover would be back to prod soon enough. "Balls." She groaned. She'd have to figure out an excuse before then if she planned to keep her past in the past. With only the crackling from the hearth making sound in the quiet room, Sebastian's words rang loudly in Marian's ears "We've met before haven't we?" He' d nearly recognized her… "Almost, dear Prince." And though the sane part of her was glad he hadn't, the unhinged, lovesick part of her was left bereaved by it. She'd truly been nothing to the man. A man that had been everything to her.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Marian leaned forward, pressing her forehead to the cool glass of her balcony door. She closed her eyes, replaying the morning. For a man she swore to hate, his very presence seemed to affect her in quite the opposite manner. He was broader than she remembered, his lips fuller. He no longer held the appearance of a boyish rogue. The planes of his face were sharper, more masculine, his easy charm, that had been her undoing so long ago, even better practiced now and his once perfect nose looked as if it had been broken at least a few times. There could be no doubt that the life of a soldier had aged him, but his eyes… Those orbs of his, danced still and when she had come upon him in her parlor, with the hearth licking at him as he bent and smiled at her, he'd made her feel seventeen all over again. "Ah, but bonus points for not melting into a pile of goo at his feet this time, Mari."
Popping her eyes open, Marian stumbled backwards, cursing as the very demon from her waking nightmare strolled out of the tavern, two Templars not far behind. He stopped briefly, stepping just into her line of sight, breathing in the crisp winter air, as he ran a hand through his thick, sorrel hair, before settling his horned helm into place and disappearing from her sight. "Gone, just like that. Poof!"
Tossing her arms over her face, Marian flopped herself onto her bed in a huff, her back hitting the plush feathered surface. The Gods be damned! They certainly had a sense of humor, sending Sebastian Vael to her city. "Balls! Balls! BALLS!" Marian whined. The words muffled by her arms still smothering her face.
At least his arrogance had re-ignited her anger. When he'd turned on her… With the flames… And GODS, those EYES! Marian had completely forgotten every ounce of her resolve. Her words had left her, her mouth completely dry… Then he spoke. The brogue she'd once adored was now nearly imperceptible, his accent more of a Ferelden/Orlesian hybrid. And much like their first meeting he'd saved her from herself, only this time he'd given her back her venom and conviction instead of just her words. Could she have been more professional? Perhaps. Did she enjoy the way he seemed to grind his teeth at her while she, in turn, kept composed? Mmm… YES! Maybe a wee bit too much. But she couldn't help it! She just wanted to slap his beautiful face!
Certain he'd departed for the day, Marian slid off the edge of her bed, deciding it was high time she make her way back down to the parlor, contemplating Sebastian as she went. He was a soldier for GODS sake! Weren't Soldiers lives supposed to be notoriously short?! WHAT! Were the phenomenal odds Sebastian's Order would be the one dispatched to Kirkwall? Even more unlikely, that his regiment would be one of only three Elite's to be sent directly into the city. Bethany would tell her it was fate. Would create a story of how they'd end up together, with hearts beating in her big, doe eyes, that wispy smile she'd get when she talked romance curling her lips. Marian's heart clenched a little at the sudden thought of her sister. It had been years since Bethany passed, but still Marian couldn't help but miss her more everyday.
Scrubbing her hands over her face in frustration, as she began to descend the long, winding staircase, Marian was in awe of how shitty such a promising day was turning out to be. Nobody had thought after almost a year, the Divine would dare to send her army. It was assumed the she'd abandoned Kirkwall, not wanting to dirty her hands with the city or it's people. After the first half of the year had passed with no news from Orlais that certainty had gained reasonable ground. Marian had gotten too comfortable, too sloppy. She'd known immediately that they were fucked when Carver, acting as the face of the Viscount in her stead, dropped the missive of peace in front of her. Marian also guessed that the dainty letter was everything BUT a banner of peace. What kind of idiot did the Divine think she was? … Of course she did let the army in peacefully, soooo… "A giant idiot!" What other choice did she have though? Holy War was the only other option, and it wasn't an option at all! The city had seen enough fighting in a six-year span to last three-dozen lifetimes. Kirkwall still wasn't fully recovered. If the Templars attacked the people would fight back of course, but they'd never win, not even with their "Champion" leading them. The Templar army was just too strong against a still recovering city. They'd fight, lose and be terminated. Or worse than death, there was The Tranquil Solution, a termination of the soul instead of the physical body… So, she'd decided to be accommodating in the hopes that the order would see Kirkwall was at peace and wasn't another Imperium.
Except now, that decision had come back to bite her on the ass… And funny enough, not even the way she'd expected it to. The very man, who had once, so very long ago almost ruined her life, was back and now the stakes were even higher. Gods! He could bring her carefully constructed world crashing down around her.
Marian slid, like a limp noodle, into one of the plush chairs before the hearth. Rubbing the back of her neck, her fingers found the closure of her locket, unclasping it, she let the golden pendent slide into her palm and with trembling fingers she opened it, first looking to the right part of the golden heart, to her sister's eyes staring back. The portrait was her favorite, and the only one she had. What would Beth think about all of this? About Marian? Would she be proud? A tear slipped from the corner of Marian's eye before she could stop it. Hastily she swiped at the stray droplet, too afraid that if her inner dame broke she'd never be able to stop the flood.
She looked to the left side of the heart, to the portrait of Nova, painted a year ago to celebrate Kirkwall's freedom. The artist had perfectly grasped the little girl's serious smile and wide turquoise eyes, which looked upon the world with wisdom far beyond her years. So much like her mother everyone would say affectionately. Lloyd had often joked that it was a good thing their daughter had taken Marian's looks and not his. "Thank the Maker." He'd say while looking upon the baby, "That our girl takes after you, Love, and not her father." His face would light up with pride. In those moments Marian always felt like the lying snake she was. What Lloyd hadn't realized was Nova looked exactly like her father. More than Marian would have liked in fact. Her thick, straight, sorrel locks and roguish smile would be enough to prove her relation to the Vael's, but much to Marian's dismay, Nova also carried the Vael's signature turquoise eyes, which matched Sebastian's perfectly. Aye the girl favored her father all right.
The day the portrait was painted, had been the same day Marian also realized she didn't know much about her young daughter. There'd always been a job, or a war she was thrust into head first, leaving little time for herself and even less for Nova. With Kirkwall finally at peace, Marian had seen an opportunity to stop playing "Champion," and start playing the mother she always should have been. That's when she'd decided to talk to Carver about him taking her seat. She could trust him. He had grown into a fine man within the Warden ranks, no longer the petty boy he'd been. She'd been confident that with her still pulling the strings, he'd do just fine with the responsibility of "Champion" and Viscount. It hadn't even been that hard to bow out of the spotlight. Varric spun his silver-tongued tales with Carver in the center of it all. As far as the people of the city went, they were loyal to the Hawke's; as long as one stood at the helm of the city they were satisfied. Leaving her to exit stage left as easy as that. She moved from the Amell estate. Handing over the deed to Carver and Merrill knowing the newly weds would want their privacy, especially with that babe of theirs on the way. She bought the Rose shortly after that, the decision initially made from convenience, figuring it would help break the image of her as "Champion." Who'd think the slight tavern keep capable of bringing a city to its knees? Once moved in, something profound had happened though, she had finally felt a sense of home for the first time since that small farm her parents had rented in Lothering. Marian had changed the Rose, making her into the lady she deserved to be.
Now, in HER beloved home, she sat nervously rubbing her thumb over her daughters' portrait. She'd been so painstakingly certain every angle had been thought out, and tweaked to work in her favor. But then Sebastian Vael… She really hadn't expected him, at least not in her waking hours. In the fade he was a regular at The Rose. He always rode up on a beautiful, pure-white stallion, with chocolates in hand, completely naked in all his golden glory, begging her forgiveness. She gave it nightly without hesitation and they'd ride off into the sunset.
Marian couldn't stifle the laugh that bubbled up at the ridiculous image. "Gods! Isabela." She said out loud to the empty lounge "Your sinfully, foolish tales have perverted my brain."
As if waiting to be summoned, the Pirate Queen sauntered out of the shadows, a mischievous look plastered on her pretty face. She'd left the silk sheet behind in favour of an exceptionally deep-necked, black corset laced up the front with leather ties and inlayed with gold plated armour. The baubles adorning her neck and arms clinked lightly as she moved and the scarlet sash at her waist, quivered with every sway of her voluptuous hips. The leggings she wore were so tight they conformed to her like a blackened second skin, leaving little beneath them to the imagination. " Mhmmm, this is definitely my favorite way to glimpse my Pirate!" Marian mused, her body growing taught at the sight before her.
"I knew you read my books Hawke! Hard in Hightown is full of win. Am I right?" Isabela drawled.
"Ohhh, Isabela." Marian scolded, suddenly feeling exposed. Marian's skin prickled, realization striking her; Isabela had likely been there for some time longer than Marian had wished her to be. "A pirate's curious nature be damned!" "How long have you been stalking those shadows for?" She asked, trying to keep her demeanor nonchalant.
"Long enough to see you cow that delectable Chantry choir boy into submission." Isabela smirked. "That poor man hadn't the faintest idea whether to kiss you, or kill you."
"Balls! Wait, what"…"That poor man?" Marian chaffed, her indignation ripe. "You do realize that, THAT man is here to lock every single one of us up in some Orlesian prison, to rot for the rest of our lives, right? And that's if we're lucky. I certainly wouldn't put the tranquil solution passed them! Forget cowing him, I should want his blood on principal alone!"
Isabela grinned then, moving toward Marian's chair with a "I know everything Hawke, I know all your naughty little secrets. Mwhahaha!" sort of gait… Or maybe that was Marian's guilt…Perhaps both? By the look on Isabela's face she certainly didn't believe Marian's likely "But he's an evil Templar!" story.
"Are you sure it's his blood you want, sweet thing?" Isabela goaded, her knowing smile unnerving.
"The Divine seems to think we evil mages want the souls of you non-magi folk. I suppose I'd take his soul, if that's what you mean." Marian snickered in spite of her misery at the day's events. Contemplating the little locket once more, Marian shifted herself in her chair, allowing Isabela to perch atop the plushy arm.
"I wonder Hawke, which one are you crying for?" Isabela gestured toward the portraits, Sebastian forgotten for the moment, though Marian suspected it wasn't the end of the conversation by a long shot.
"Both." Was Marian's simple, reply. "I miss them both so much Bela. My sister, she'd be so fascinated by everything that's happened. She'd be involved in all the going ons and I'd be off my meds crazy fearing what trouble her curiosity would get her into." As another tear slid from Marian's eye, she clicked the locket shut, handing it to Isabela, so the pirate could refasten it back into place for her.
"I didn't get to meet Bethany sweet thing," Isabela whispered, her hands quick to latch the locket. "From what I've heard of her though, she'd be so proud of you." Marian placed a hand lightly on the rogue's leg, her head lifting to meet the pirate's beautiful face.
"She'd love this place B. It's one of the reasons I bought it, I've always imagined her throwing a grand ball right here in the parlor." Marian gestured, her left arm sweeping the room." We'd have every noble here and I'd be shit faced long before the end of the night." Marian giggled.
"We'd both be." Laughed Isabela, "we'd wake up wearing no pants, hanging from one of these fancy chandeliers." Isabela's voice devious, as she motioned towards the ceiling were the diamond fixtures hung. They both laughed, a deep guttural sound, the kind of laughter that makes your stomach hurt and the heart soar. The ring of it echoed through the grand parlor, bouncing from wall to wall and back to them, their eyes watering.
The happiness, the laughter, ended too soon though, Marian dropped her arm, her hand going back to the locket around her neck, as she nibbled her lower lip a nervous tell she'd had since she was little.
"You did the right thing Mari. Sending Nova to live with Rana and Zevran while these Templars run the city was the best thing you could have done for her. A tavern over run by rough soldiers isn't a place for a sweet angel." Marian smiled up at Bela, but how could she tell the pirate, it wasn't the rough soldiers that she feared, as much as the one very polished Knight-Commander?
A fortnight ago, when she'd told Carver to send word back to the Divine, she had immediately begun making plans for Nova to stay with her cousin, The Hero of Ferelden, who'd recently taken up residence only a few miles away, on the outskirts of the city with her assassin lover, an ex-Antivan Crow. Having no children of their own, unable to due to Rana's Grey Warden status, they had welcomed Nova with open arms, elated to have a child about, even if she was of the borrowed nature. Rana had offered to help teach Nova how to better control her magic, and Zevran had offered his hand in poisons, though Marian had declined the tutelage of the latter for her daughter, still she had no doubt Nova would come home with the knowledge of how to poison a whole city undetected. Marian knew she couldn't have asked for better people to protect her child. She could also have never known how wise of a precaution having her daughter stay with them would prove to be.
Bela's hand drifted down to the locket. Brushing Marian's away, she opened it. "It's got to be a relief too, that without little Nova here it'll be a hell of a lot harder for anyone to put her and the Knight-Commander together… Eh?"
"Wha…B? What are you talki-" Marian stammered… HOW did Isabela do that? How did she put two and two together and come up with one hundred and ten?!
"I always knew she wasn't Lloyd's." Isabela observed as if they were talking the weather over tea. "To be completely honest I thought she was Gabe's… I mean with those eyes, and her hair. It just made sense… But now, after that displ…"
"NO, NO, NO! STOP!" Marian snapped, shooting up from her seat, sending her chair and the pirate reeling for a second time in one day. Her skirts swished around her legs furiously as she turned on Isabela, swinging wildly with electricity sparking from hands. What came next was all very slow motion for Marian, as if she had left her body, her balled fists hit it's mark, she knew by the sickening sound of bone breaking and cartilage crunching, blood poured from Isabela's nose. The pirate careened backwards hitting the floor hard, her bloodied face twisted with amusement, Marian's on the other hand was one of horror. She just struck out at her best mate! What was happening to her? "Isabela… I'm so sorry." Marian pleaded, the electricity in her hands dieing as she rushed to her friend, ripping a strip of her dress to hold to Isabela's nose.
"I think you broke my nose Hawke." Isabela said. "Like, legitimately broke it! What the fuck did that man do to you to make you so crazy?"
Sitting back on her heels Marian's shoulders sagged and her head hung. "I can heal you, B." She could feel her cheeks redden, embarrassment for what she'd done raking over her.
"First, tell me what happened to you Mari. Did you want him Hawke?" Isabela's eyes were deadly serious, even as her nose dripped like a faucet.
"Did I want him?" Marian asked, contemplating how to answer such a general question correctly. "What do you mean? Was I raped?" She sighed, rubbing her hands on her thighs, where her robes had parted. "No... I was naïve." She chuckled, a bitter sound at the reminder of how foolish her youthful self had been. Before Marian knew it, her secrets, every sordid one of them, from her time with Sebastian, to Rana sending Lloyd to his almost certain death at the battle for Redcliff. Everything tumbled forth, held onto for too long. Marian sat for awhile while she recounted them, at times she'd get up to pace the parlor, Bela in turn just sat, listening intently on Marian's words, holding the strip of fabric to her nose.
"And than we landed here. I believe you know the rest." Marian finished, a lifetime of hardships and sleazy affairs told in a mere fifteen minutes. Inhaling deep, she found herself drained as she leaned on the grand piano that sat forgotten in one corner of the parlor, dust drifting from the instrument as her hip met it's old, polished wood. Stiffly Marian crossed her arms over her chest, meeting Isabela's gaze for the first time since her story had begun. "So, I'm a cheat, a liar and not at all the champion these people believe me to be, shocking eh?"
"You're the Champion they needed Mari, they still do. Which of us isn't a thief, a liar, or a cheat?" Isabela assured, her voice nasally from her injured nose. "Hell I'm a pirate. How do you think I earned that title? I can assure you it wasn't with pure thoughts and saintly actions."
"Every single one of them would despise me if they knew." Marian said. "And you know it. Regardless of how long ago it was, or what I've done for them, he is the enemy and that's all anybody will see." And they would. Marian knew people, she understood them and how perilous being on top of their golden pedestal was, further more she knew how quick one could topple off said pedestal. "Bela a lot of crazy shit has happened in this life, but this could ruin Nova and I. I need to know you won't meddle." Marian emphasized, wagging the index finger on her left hand as if Isabela was a petulant child. "He's never to know. Not EVER. You've screwed me in the past, but this…This is huge!"
"You take one lowly, little book from horned mongrels and suddenly nobody trusts you." Isabela threw her arms in the air, stomping her left foot in annoyance.
"That book isn't just any old relic. It's their bloody religion, their way of life! The Qunari almost wasted the entire city because of it Isabela!"
"You're always so dramatic Hawke. I knew you'd win."
She'd won, yeah, it had only taken everything Marian could throw at the fucking Qunari leader, and even then he'd just kept coming. She'd battled lots of Tal-Vashoth on the Wounded Coast. Perhaps she had walked into the duel with too much arrogance, but no Qunari had ever given her reason to pause. When her Crushing Prison failed to hold the Arishok Marian had known the game was being played totally different. Then her Cone of Cold failed… She hit him with fire next, only to watch him laugh in her face as he stalked her, patting out the flames on his skin. He'd out-foxed Marian, played with her; let her whittle her mana down to nothing before he attacked with brutality and animalistic ferocity. It had only been Isabela's quick thinking, her favored daggers and her early duelist teachings, that she'd insisted Marian take part in, that had saved her.
Marian shook her head in disbelief, her mouth hanging in a perfect O. "Look," She groaned, annoyed and desperate. "The past is past, if I was going to stay angry about it, I would've just sent you packing with the Arishok like he wanted, instead of killing him. The relic and Qunari, they don't matter anymore. I need your word you won't screw me on this Bela." Marian growled pushing her index finger hard into the piano top she leaned on. The pirate, now up from the floor, prowled toward her like a sleek cat. Laying her hands on either side of Marian, boxing her in. Their faces were only inches apart, Marian worked her bottom lip in anticipation knowing what would come next, but before it could she needed to hear Isabela's promise. "Bela promise me you won't screw me on this." Hawke whispered, placing a hand on the pirate's face, healing her wounded nose.
"I promise Mari," was Isabela's purred response. The pirate lightly ghosted her lips over Marian's as if to seal the promise with an intoxicating kiss. Marian sighed, relief washing over her as she sagged into Isabela's welcoming curves. Marian heard the sultry, rasp low in Isabela's throat, before she was hoisted onto the dusty surface of the old piano.
"Now Hawke." The pirate thrummed into her ear, sending shivers racing up and down her spine. "Can I screw you on this?" Isabela asked, bouncing Hawke lightly, loose piano keys singing beneath the thumping of her bottom. Slowly Isabela raised the hem of Marian's dress, exposing her flesh to the cool air. The pirate's hands coming down hard onto Marian's bare thighs, reddening the sensitive flesh on contact. Marian mewled, bucking into the bolt of pained, pleasure. Swiftly she spread her knees apart to give the Rivaini woman better access. "Wanton whore!" Isabela chided playfully. "Though until you answer my question, I fear we simply can't continue."
"Isabela," Marian choked out around a moan. "If you don't screw me, I may explode. We wouldn't want that now would we?" She answered, already half mad with need she captured Isabela's mouth with her own, forcing the issue.
Isabela's POV
Isabela took control of Hawke's demanding lips, slowing the pace as she climbed on top of her woman. She kissed her one last time, a feather-light caress on her lips, before she journeyed over the sharp planes of Marian's silken jaw line and up to the shell of her ear. She nibbled gently to start, slowly increasing the pressure, coaxing a sweet little moan from Marian. The little mage's arms encircled Isabela's arse, trying desperately to pull the pirate closer, to spur her on to the best parts. Isabela smiled inwardly at her little pet's impatience, and decided to reward her sweetness. Resting her knee between Marian's lush thighs, Isabela circled it lightly at the young mages core, allowing Marian to take over and quicken the speed and friction as she saw fit. It didn't last though, Isabela kissed Marian one last time before she pulled away. The mage whimpered.
"Isabela, pleassssse!" Marian pleaded.
"Ah, the impatience of youth." Isabela smirked, refusing to bow to Marian's plea. She kept her pace slow knowing it would drive Marian over the edge of control, and that was exactly where Isabela wanted her. Pushing the emerald green robes over Hawke's shoulders, Isabela was delighted over the sight she'd seen often, but never found herself sick of, two perfectly shaped globes beneath the silk fabric. She circled her thumbs over the cherry buds, lightly pinching them, capturing Hawke's throaty moan with her mouth letting it vibrate through her own wanton body.
Straddling Hawke's waist Isabela reared up, calmly she peeled away her armor, piece, by agonizing piece, keeping Marian mewling, and begging beneath her. Just as the last piece of Isabela's armor fell to the ground Marian struck "Mmmm, yes, over the edge." The mage moved like lightening, before Isabela could react her bare skin met the cool piano top. She watched, intrigued as Hawke slowly slid down her body, the underside of the mages tongue tracing the path with little jolts of electricity.
Isabela tingled from it all the way to her toes. Gods she loved mages! All thought was lost, when Hawke came to rest on the swollen ball of nerve endings, sending light jolts from her tongue, to the already pulsating pearl, then changing it up to light bursts of cold. The random sensations had Isabela bucking off the table. Her body was on the brink of explosion, just a little more friction. In one perfectly practiced motion Bela felt herself being filled, Marian's long, expert fingers curled up in a "come hither" motion. It was then Marian turned up the heat zapping electrical sparks upward hitting that sacred G. The world shattered, stars blinding Isabela as she raced through her first orgasm, sinking her blunt nails into the wood beneath. Her pleasured yelps echoed through the empty parlor. Not even Zevran could beat a mage, she thought hazily.
Opening her eyes slowly, the world still slightly spinning Isabela caught Hawke's smug smile. "The mage thinks she's won does she?" That just wouldn't do. In one smooth motion, she was off the piano. In the next moment she had a fist full of silky, red curls wrapped around her right hand. She bent Hawke face first over the table, lightly smacking her backside when the mage tried rearing back.
She grazed her fingers over Marian's already drenched folds, lifting Marian's passion to her lips, easing up on the mage's curls, letting her watch as Isabela drank in her passion. Strawberries and cream mixed with magic invaded her mouth. Isabela closed her eyes in bliss. The taste of Hawke was as addicting as lyrium dust.
She felt Marian trembling underneath the hand she still held twisted in her hair. "Maker Isabela." She gasped, "please..." the woman trailed off, arching her hips up to Isabela.
"Please what sweet thing? Tell me what you want and it's yours." Growled the pirate the sound of her name on Hawke's tongue awakening a darker predatory instinct. She thrust her hips into the mages rear, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing.
"I want.. I want you please Isabela! I want you!" Marian wailed attempting to thrash her head, from side to side, frustration etched in her beautiful face.
It was then Isabela caught a glance of something shiny out of the corner of her eye. She looked towards the door passively to see the Knight-Commander, half on the verge of running for the hills and yet completely rooted in place. How long had he been there she wondered. By the look on his face, she suspected quite some time. Laughing lowly, she caught his eye, winking at him, a lazy devilish smile playing upon her lips. She certainly hoped the Commander stuck around for the rest of the show. Perhaps he could even take a few pointers from afar on how to please the fiery woman under her firm grip.