Aveline's POV
Once in a great while, I do make mistakes. Honest mistakes. But I will also be the first to admit that I was wrong. And for my part, I was wrong. I should never have tried to have Isabela's car towed.
I sat back in the passenger's seat, glancing around the interior. I could see now why she was so protective of the '66 Shelby. It is far too nice a vehicle to entrust to any impound lot. Hawke must also be in agreement. I had never been her passenger before, but I could only assume that she was not usually this cautious a motorist. We sat in silence as she slowly drove toward our destination. Where that was, I didn't know. I could only reason that if we had Isabela's car and we were going to meet up with Merrill, the two had to be together. I'd much rather talk to her without the slattern in attendance… but I had little choice in the matter.
I began to consider how our conversation would unfold. I figured that I should relay my recollections, apologize (because it is the right thing to do, despite the fact that she was the intoxicated party), and see how she reacts. I was so lost in thought that I stopped tracking passing street signs. Before I was aware, Hawke had parked us alongside a building and was exiting the vehicle. She seemed to know exactly where she was headed.
I opted to follow blindly behind her. But once we rounded the building, I was able to pinpoint our exact location. A large wooden sign read 'The Hanged Man'. I still had vivid memories of being dragged here not long ago. "Why are we at a bar that smells of stale piss and vomit?"
The winger stood outside the front door. She turned to face me, her hands on her hips. "Have you been here before?" Amusement was written all over her face, along with a knowing smirk.
"Unfortunately, yes. Not of my own volition, I assure you." I groaned. My companion chuckled as she held the door open for me. The stench of indecency hit me like a brick wall. I stared pointedly at Cassandra, waiting for the laughter to begin. This was surely a joke. There is no way that Merrill is here, of all places. But she simply continued to hold the door, waiting patiently for me to enter. With a silent prayer, we stepped inside.
It was as I remembered it; dark and poorly ventilated. Even on this Sunday afternoon, there were half a dozen downtrodden patrons in attendance. Few looked up from their drinks as Hawke strolled up to the bar, myself in tow. The blonde proprietor… Patrolwoman Brennan's drunken poetry immediately began replaying in my brain. Ever larger, our love will morph, forever on, my dearest… Corff! Yes, his name is Corff. Corff and a man seated at the bar were conversing as my teammate approached. I swear that I caught something about 'speed griffons' before some hearty chortles ensued and the bartender noticed us.
"Back already, Hawke? I'm 'mazed 'Bela hasn't run you ragged by now. Certifiable, that one." He grumbled as he shook his head, a single tooth showing through the corner of his mouth. My companion stretched her arms behind her back and cracked her neck, showing some signs of wear.
"It's never boring; that's for sure." She replied, attempting to hide a smile. "Did she and Varric come through with a-"
The blonde held up a palm, silencing her. "Merrill. Yeah. She introduced 'erself as your roommate b'fore they went upstairs. Told me ta keep an eye out for you and/or a ginger named Aveline." He tilted his head to the side, glancing at me as I stood a few feet away. "I'm 'ssuming that's you." He stated plainly. I hated the term 'ginger' and would have usually made a point to say as much, but I had no patience for a fight, let alone an introduction. I nodded in affirmation, crossing my arms over my chest. The bartender shrugged and looked back at Cassandra. "Anyway, the 'allway is unlocked if you want ta go up."
"Thanks Corff. Oh, and…" She stepped forward, gesturing him toward her. I raised an eyebrow curiously as she whispered something into his ear, then patted him on the cheek. "Stay safe." She grinned as she retreated, causing him to chuckle and wave her off.
I had never been on the second floor of the Hanged Man, nor did I know anyone who had. But Hawke marched up the stairs with steadfast confidence whilst I trailed behind. I was not normally one for being led about, but this was clearly her domain far more than it was mine, so I surrendered to her experience. As she opened the first door, we came upon the aforementioned hallway. This smells much less of poverty. That's a good sign. It reminded me of an apartment building. A red door stood alone on the left side of the hallway. Are these apartments? Who would live above such a wretched establishment? I had barely completed that thought as my friend walked up to the door, nonchalantly leaning sideways against it. She drummed on the door with the knuckles of her fingers.
"Babe, you in there?" Babe? … Isabela? Oh Lord, that figures. Some muffled chatter and the booming sound of a television confirmed my suspicions. This was definitely the Rivaini residence. Hawke did not even wait for an invitation and stepped inside, grinning from ear to ear.
I stood within the doorway, immediately scanning the apartment. It was… not as I expected. Much like her car, Isabela's home had a level of function that I would not normally associate with her. She was obnoxious and loud. In your face. Not in the least bit subtle. This dwelling was the opposite. Everything spoke of luxury, but not excess. I saw books, expensive art, a proper kitchen, Victorian décor, a minimal amount of walls, and not a door to speak of (except the one I had just come through). It was certainly not a traditional home, but… Dare I say it had style? Subtle class and elegance? Yes, indeed it did. There are no obvious sexual implements, pornographic materials, or crude carvings…
Before I could assess the place more thoroughly, I was distracted by a familiar sound. A giggle. My eyes searched it out, landing quickly upon a vintage loveseat. Merrill sat beside Isabela, with a bowl of popcorn between them. Whatever they were watching had her completely entranced. She was beaming as she reached into the bowl, stuffing her cheeks without breaking eye contact. She was dressed… Well, let me just say that she was far more assembled than she was last night. She looked very nice, even if someone had experimentally braided bits of her hair.
But both turned suddenly. "Save some for me!" Cassandra called, running over to the other women and grabbing for the popcorn.
"Hey!" Isabela squealed, more out of surprise than salutation. Daisy chuckled as her roommate tried to squeeze between the two of them on the seat, hording the bowl in her arms. I stood awkwardly, watching them interact. They both seemed so focused on the winger that they hadn't yet noticed me. There was a lot of shuffling, and the slattern ended up in my companion's lap, but they all seemed to fit. Hawke was asking her girlfriend something, but I didn't think to listen. I was drawn too strongly to Merrill's smile. It was nice to see her happy. God knows I was always making her miserable. I shook the thought. You used to make her miserable. It doesn't have to be that way anymore.
"I brought you something." Cassandra nudged her, tilting her head toward the doorway.
Blue, amber, and finally, green eyes fell on me. Only the first seemed mildly friendly. I gulped hard, feeling utterly exposed; ambushed, even. But I did not allow myself to be brought all this way only to be bested by my nerves. I took a few steps forward and leaned against the black marble of the kitchen island, sticking my hands in the pockets of my slacks. My pride thoroughly swallowed, I glanced over to the owner of the apartment.
"Your place is… very nice, Isabela. Do you mind if I come in?"
She blinked at me, then at my teammate. The two shared an awkward stare, whispered a bit, and kissed. That seemed to sate the hostess. "You break it, you buy it, Man-Hands." The woman replied sarcastically, turning back to her lover.
I kept my focus on Daisy. She was doing the opposite where I was concerned. Her gaze wandered from the floor, to the television, to the window, and back again. I removed my jacket, placing it on a nearby coat rack. I walked up to the closest side of the TV, hoping it would be harder to avoid me if I was closer to her line of sight. I would have done anything to have her look at me again. Even an angry glare would do. "Merrill, can we talk for a moment?"
"I'm not sure I want to talk to you. Maybe not ever." She answered, staring blankly out the window. Her body language spoke of unspeakable pain and I could see her jaw trembling. I never meant for her to feel this way. But it was my fault, intentional or otherwise. If I had been honest with her earlier, if I had stayed… She wouldn't be biting her lips and trying not to cry. As it was, I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach by a Clydesdale.
But, by luck or blessing, Hawke came to my aid. She placed her free hand (the one not wrapped around Isabela's waist) behind our friend's shoulders. "You want to hear what she has to say. Trust me." She offered politely.
Merrill glanced up at me just once, released a sigh, and stood. The others also got to their feet. "I'll pause this. We're going to go upstairs and see why Varric is taking so long with the sandwiches." Isabela announced as she adjusted her dress and fumbled with a remote. I glanced at the television as my winger shook the popcorn crumbs from her jacket and set the bowl down on the coffee table. They were watching old episodes of Doctor Who, I believe; though I know not which iteration.
The couple passed by me in silence. Well, Cassandra walked past. Her girlfriend made an effort to bump into my arm on her way out, shooting me an icy death-stare in warning. I pretended not to notice.
The apartment fell quiet with the 'click' of the door closing behind them. The sound of my thundering heartbeat seemed to echo throughout the room. I could feel the sweat on my palms. Daisy was still standing in front of the loveseat, looking just as nervous as I was. Private as this conversation should be, I would have almost preferred an audience to break the awkward stillness. After weighing my options, I broke the silence myself. I slowly approached the loveseat.
"I think I'll sit, if that's alright." Nothing. She was still gazing out the window and pretending I wasn't there. So I sat down, leaving plenty of room for her if she decided to do the same. I gulped, rubbing my hands over my thighs. I can't make her listen, but I can, at the very least, explain myself. "As you probably already know, Hawke came to the dorm to talk to me." Hearing no comment, I continued. "She told me that you were having trouble remembering the details of last night, but what you could recall upset you." I heard her inhale sharply.
"So, I'm going to tell you what happened. If you still hate me after that, then I'll leave. Agreed?" Merrill slowly nodded her head and sat down on the other side of the loveseat, still facing away from me. "Thank you."
"Let me start at the beginning. I have… liked you for a while. I've been in denial about it, but Hawke could see through that. I didn't exactly- I don't exactly know what it all means…" My voice was threatening to crack, but I took a breath, resolute at my task. I would tell her how I felt, or I would die trying. "I'm going to tell you a secret." There was naught but more silence. "I was in love once before. His name was Wesley. We dated in high school and we were going to get married… until he died." Her body stiffened in shock and her eyes shut tight. "The Vallen name doesn't belong to my parents. It's his name. I changed it when I came to Kirkwall."
She shuffled in her seat and I caught a glimpse of a tear as it ran down to her chin and fell onto her scarf. "W-Why are you telling me this?" It was barely above a whisper.
"Because you deserve to know. Because… when Hawke told me that you were at the Blooming Rose, in danger, I got scared. For the first time in a long time, I was truly scared. So I abandoned my post and drove down to rescue you. Do you remember what happened when I found you?"
She shook her head. "Well, you were highly intoxicated. I'm quite sure you asked me to dance… and cuddle." I could see the slightest blush form on her cheek. I'll admit, I grinned a little. She obviously remembered that part. "And, after that, you made me chase you throughout the bar. I think you were surprised when I threw you over my shoulder. Hawke took a picture. You can ask to see it if you don't believe me." Her blush immediately brightened. "Anyway, I drove you back to the dorm. And-"
She cleared her throat, speaking shakily. "Y-You said that I was pretty." I smiled at the sound of her voice.
"Yes, I did. And the elevator was broken, so I carried you up the stairs. Then, once we got to your room, you asked me if I was being honest. I said I was…"
She spoke again, her voice quiet and self-conscious. "And I kissed you. A lot."
"You certainly did." I chuckled at myself, quickly coughing to cut myself off. I didn't want her thinking that I was laughing at her. "Anyway… I tried to stop you. I was- The idea of being in love again petrified me." I inhaled sharply, keeping my own tears at bay. "Because it feels great for a while, but then it ends. And it hurts so much when it ends. I didn't want to hurt again. I didn't want to hurt you." My body was shaking and when I hazarded a glance, I noticed hers was too. I wanted to hold her, to apologize like I had planned, but I wasn't done explaining. I had to finish. I had to be open, for once in my life.
"So when I tucked you into bed and you told me that you loved me, I-I panicked. I told you that it didn't matter what I said, because you wouldn't remember. But I should have said something, anything…" I closed my eyes, but I could sense Merrill stir. I waited for her to slap me, to tell me that I was an idiot, or a bitch, or whatever else I deserved to be called. But I never felt any sting. I felt a touch; the lightest of touches against my hand. I dared not move, lest it go away. It was tentative at first; her thin fingertips barely grazed my knuckles. But, ever so gently, she placed her hand on mine.
I slowly opened my eyes and looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her green eyes glistened with the light of the room. "What would you of said?" I blinked, awestruck.
"I don't know… I should have been honest." I glanced away, collecting my thoughts. "I should have told you that you're beautiful and wonderful and I… I was an ass before! I was lost, so I was cruel. But I'd be love and sweetness if I had you, Merrill. I swear I would." I took her hand between mine, holding onto it for dear life. She started sobbing then, tears were running down her face. I only just realized that I was crying, too.
"Merrill, please don't cry." My hand lifted of its own volition, rising up to brush the saline from her cheek. But I stopped it before it could. Our boundaries were grey, at best. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to touch her; and I certainly didn't want to be wrong again. She answered my doubts by throwing herself against me. I was both surprised and relieved as she wrapped her arms around my neck and wept against my jaw. It was definitely the death-grip of a hug that we both needed. So I wrapped her tightly in an embrace and let her stay there as long as she wanted.
She died down to barely a whimper after a few minutes, but did not move. After another extensive silence, I wondered if she had drifted off to sleep. "Merrill?" I murmured softly, not loud enough to wake anyone, but loud enough to be heard by her if she were conscious.
Her head lifted instantly and she rubbed at her face. "I'm so sorry, Aveline. I've probably ruined your shirt. It's all wrinkled and covered in snot. I'm so sorry. It's such a lovely shirt. It really brings out your eyes." She mumbled apologetically, her hand trying to smooth out the moist spot. An effort was made to shuffle back out of my lap, but I chose not to move my arms. I wasn't holding her with any measure of force; I was simply… enjoying the physical contact.
"I'm sure it will wash out." I smiled up at her, pawing at my own face to wipe away any leftover tears. "And… thank you. For the compliment, I mean. And the hug."
"You're welcome." She replied with a sheepish grin. "Perhaps you are a cuddler." Daisy giggled, covering her mouth with her fingertips.
"Perhaps I am. Or perhaps I'd like to be."
She beamed down at me and poked my sternum. "Well, if you are a cuddler, then you're a good one. And… a good kisser, I think." She added nervously.
I blushed hard under her gaze. "That, I would definitely like to be." I whispered earnestly, allowing my hand to finish its earlier journey to her cheek. Her eyes closed as she leaned into my palm, bringing us a bit closer together. Together… Before I could talk myself out of it, I moved to close the short distance between our lips.
But my luck had run out. The door opened with a 'thud' and three distinct footsteps came crashing in. I pulled away from Merrill's mouth with a groan as an all-too-familiar voice called out, "Hands off my Kitten's kitten! I've got a knife and I'm not afraid to use it!"
Isabela, must you be so crude?
Author's Note:
Holy crap! Two chapters in one day! This is what happens when I'm between jobs... and single (geographically).
I didn't want the Aveline/Merrill relationship (or Averil, as I am going to call it from now on) to take up this many chapters. But it has. Though, considering the amount of chapters I'm going to pump into this story, three or four focused away from the main couple seems fair. And if you think this chapter is a bit lacking in my usual overload of adjectives, remember that its Aveline. She doesn't exactly use words like voluptuous and enticing in describing ANYTHING, let alone another person.
Also, I realized that this story is becoming an estrogen cloud. The next chapter will mark the return of some dudes. Because, as you know, people who read F!Hawke/Isabela pairings need a strong masculine presence... *so much sarcasm*. Beer and boobs and sports and stuff, hooah!
Love the reviews! Thanks especially to Piratecheif, Apollo Wings, chevy99, and RatedRSuperStar87 for consistent words and praise and wisdom.