A/N: Well this chapter isn't exactly the happiest… I suppose it has to get worse before it gets any better. Thanks once again for everyone's advice, input and encouraging reviews.

Chapter 9: A Final Request to Smile

With her ice-tipped staff lodged in the Arishok's chest, the duel was over and the city free from Qunari occupation, yet something didn't bode well in the mage's heart. She dislodged her staff easy enough and scanned furiously for the girl that had charged the entrance to provide them a distraction. Hawke had advised her to stay out of it and let the First Enchanter handle it, but the bow woman followed her own sense of fate. The nobles began to cry 'Champion,' but Hawke's mind was elsewhere until the Knight-Commander rushed through the doors, and along with Meredith came Arya limp in her arms. She tried to find some hope and comfort in Meredith's eyes but they were as hard and cold as ice when she handed Arya over. Hawke took hold of the girl, cradled her in her arms, ignored the roar of cheers surrounding them, and as she clutched tighter to the girl her mind drifted back to a warmer time.

. . .

"You shouldn't be too nervous, Mother is a gracious host." Hawke walked alongside the long, raven-haired woman she had come to love. "She'll be happy to finally meet you, she's always taken an interest in the women–" Hawke bit her tongue as she realized what she was about to say. "Not that there were many!"

Arya chuckled and took that moment to stop and pull her blushing mage towards her. "Perhaps you're the nervous one, hmm?" She planted a gentle and slow kiss on the mage's lips. "She's met Isabela hasn't she?"

"Well met isn't exactly the right word." Hawke murmured as she recalled the context in which her and Isabela were usually involved.

"But she knew you two were together?" Arya kept her lilac eyes on Hawke's piercing blue ones.

'Maker did she,' Hawke blushed at the memory before responding, "Yes, she did, but never in the way you're about to meet her. This is much more… planned, for one, and polite."

Arya raised an eyebrow to what she could possibly mean by 'polite' and what it meant that Isabela's visits were never 'polite.' She smirked and decided it was probably best not to dwell on it too much as she continued to walk to Hawke's estate.

"I'll try my best not to disappoint." Arya concluded.

"That's fairly impossible." Hawke winked and took the Fereldan's hand, "You're beautiful, kind and above all you're the closest thing to normal that I've ever courted."

"Yes well telling her what kind of family I'm from won't exactly come out as a normal upbringing, will it? And…" Arya was afraid to give voice to her next inquiry. "You're mother doesn't mind that I'm… well that I'm a girl?"

Hawke burst into laughter as they drew up to the estate. If her mother had a problem with her courting women, she surely would have disowned Hawke by now. Hawke continued to laugh until she noticed Arya fidgeting nervously beside her.

"Don't worry, she's well aware of my preferences." Hawke took her hand and gave it a kiss for reassurance.

Hawke opened the door for Arya and advised her to leave her bow near the chewed up mat. Her mabari quickly recognized the girl that had accompanied his master as of late and greeted her with a playful bark. Arya smiled and gave the mabari a pat on his head, which caused him to loll his tongue to the side. He rolled on the floor and paddled his paws in the air as if asking for a belly rub.

"He certainly is fond of you." Arya looked up to find a very beautiful lady of stature descending the stairs. "It's nice to finally meet you, my dear." Leandra gave the girl a hug.

"The pleasure's all mine."

Hawke watched with a warm smile as the two women she held dearest to her embraced in salutation. She had wanted the two to meet for some time now, but something always managed to keep their plans from commencing.

Their dinner was pleasant enough and although Leandra asked a few personal and embarrassing questions, neither Hawke nor Arya were scarred the worse for it. Leandra watched the two keenly, and was not surprised at her daughter's attraction for the Fereldan. The girl was well built and had features that would usually mark her as nobility if it were not for her common upbringing that she claimed to have. However, Hawke could not fool her mother, this was not the same love she fostered for the pirate. Leandra had wondered why she no longer heard her daughter and the pirate at play at Maker awful hours of the night. Her daughter was happy enough with this new beauty, and the girl seemed honest and loving, but was Marian merely settling for comfort. She watched a bit longer and witnessed how the two interacted playfully, and decided to blurt out, "Will you be staying the night, Arya?"

Arya choked on the wine she had just pushed passed her lips and coughed before she could answer. It had not slipped into her mind that Hawke's mother would make such a proposition as that. Her eyes nervously slid to look at Hawke and found that she was also in a state of confusion. Leandra watched as both remained silent and concluded that her daughter hadn't bedded the woman yet. Was she waiting out of propriety, or was she still hooked on Isabela?

"Arya has a room at the Hanged Man and pays good money for it." Hawke interjected but it was a half-hearted claim.

"The Hanged Man? Poor dear aren't you slightly uncomfortable in such a setting?"

"It suits me fine. I've made friends there and when it gets too rowdy I can safely retire to my room."

"If ever you need a breath of fresh air, I'm sure Marian wouldn't mind you staying. Maker knows she's old enough to not need my permission, and she's never asked for it anyways." Leandra left it at that and rose from the table. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Arya. You must come by more often; a lady's company is always enjoyable. Perhaps Marian will be more inclined to attend balls with me if you come along as well."

Arya thanked her for her hospitality and agreed to attend at least one ball. Afterwards, Hawke sighed and apologized for any uncomfortable position her mother might have put her in.

"I didn't mind…" Arya gave Hawke's hand a squeeze. "I've been meaning to ask, do you think it'd be alright," Arya felt her head spin slightly as she finished her sentence, "if I stay the night?"

Hawke sat still and felt her body heat up. If Arya stayed the night, Hawke would feel inclined to make love to her and she wasn't sure she would be able to. Ever since she stopped seeing Isabela, she had a serious decrease in her libido and felt comfortable not doing anything sexual. She lifted her blue eyes to see anxious lilac eyes staring right back at hers.

"Arya, I… I'm afraid." Hawke admitted and sighed in defeat.

"Afraid?" Arya drew her chair closer to Hawke's, "of what?"

"Of not doing things right with you."

Arya let out a light laugh as she cupped Hawke's chin. "You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going to pounce." She winked and Hawke's cheeks tinged with red.

"I didn't say you were, it's just, well I assumed–" Hawke stuttered.

"I'll move as fast or slow as you move." Arya's voice became velvety and lulled the mage from her previous stuttering spell.

Hawke felt Arya's soft lips meld with hers and would have forgot that Sandal was standing right beside her if it weren't for his funny little chuckle. Hawke quickly turned to look to her right and found the dwarf staring at her absent-mindedly.

"Sandal? Isn't it about time you went to bed?" Hawke was confused by his appearance since he was usually by the enchantment table or off with her mabari companion.

"Boom!" He shouted sporadically and placed a small rune in her hands.

"Uh, yes thank you Sandal." Hawke turned back to Arya who had an arched brow. "It's just what he does sometimes."

"And just when I was making some progress." Arya mocked her disappointment as she rose from the table and headed towards the fireplace.

Hawke followed the bow woman to the main room and stood behind her. The Fereldan was one of the few women that managed to be of equal height to the mage, and Hawke was glad for it. As she wrapped her arms around the girl's torso, she pulled her closer and nestled her lips into the crevice of Arya's neck. She smelled wonderfully sweet and tasted just so as Hawke moved her lips up the line of her neck.

"Stay with me tonight." Hawke murmured in the girl's ear.

"Is that what you really want Hawke?" Arya whispered back but kept her eyes on the fire.

Hawke decided this question couldn't be answered with words and used her lips for better purposes than speech. She suckled gently on Arya's tender neck until she reached the corner of her smile. She eased the girl's head so that she could kiss her lips fully and hoped that the bow woman would be able to feel the passion she had pent up. Arya felt her knees buckle and would have fell to the floor if Hawke hadn't been behind to support her slender body. The mage's hands roamed across the other's curves, lightly and slow. The bow woman was taken aback by Hawke's display of lustful affection– she was usually reserved about taking it too far. However any thoughts of Hawke's objection went out the window as the mage cupped Arya's breast and began to slowly massage her in all the right places. Arya let out a moan but then quickly tried to suck it back in realizing how loud she had been. Hawke chuckled mischievously and stopped her fondling; they needed to retreat to her room. Hawke took her by the hand and led her up the stairs. Arya's heart raced as Hawke pulled her into the room and held her in her arms.

"I'd like to give myself to you, if you'll have me." Hawke whispered in her ear causing a light thrill to course down Arya's spine and a flutter to erupt in her abdomen.

"I've always wanted you, Hawke." Arya sighed with bliss as she felt Hawke's hands undo her tunic. "I'll try not to disappoint."

"Doubtful." Hawke cupped her face and let her blue eyes link to the lilac eyes of her lover. They were glazed over with admiration, a pinch of lust and lathered in love. She loved the Fereldan more than she could fathom, and for once Isabela did not cross her mind.

After that night, Hawke was astounded and satisfied at the competency of her lover. Only after their lovemaking was over did Hawke think about Isabela and how different their rutting had been to her time with Arya. The bow woman had been slow, sometimes torturously so, and tender with her touch. When the mage woke she wasn't alone and the arms wrapped around her were not her own– this was different. Isabela had never stayed the night, nor did she believe in cuddling. Arya on the other hand was as affectionate and considerate as one could possibly be. Hawke held her that morning and smiled– her heart was beginning to finally heal.

. . .

Hawke held the girl in her arms and thought darkness should also feel inclined to wrap around her too, when a magical sound caressed her ears. She pushed her head harder against Arya's tunic and found the remnant beats of a dying heart.

"Arya?" Hawke's voice cracked as she held the bleeding girl in her arms. "Arya!" Hawke summoned what little magic she had left to try and heal the massive wound that the girl's abdomen suffered. "Please…" her magic waned as her strength faded and her eyes closed.

"H…awke." A small voice spoke. "Don't…" Arya weakly pulled her hand to brush a tear from the newly named Champion's face.

Hawke held her hand tightly and brought it to her lips– she was so cold!

"I'm so sorry." Hawke murmured as she kissed her hand.

"Just smile." The light in Arya's eyes was fading and a final memory passed through her mind.

. . .

As fate would have it, the mage's heart would not be left to happiness for long. In a month's time Hawke's mother had been abducted by none other than the killer of women she had been hunting down with Emeric for years. She should have protected her, warned her of the white lilies that were his damned trademark, and told her to be wary of suitors. With Carver in the Grey Wardens and her mother gone forever, Hawke felt the ground beneath her lose tangibility and she began to free fall. If it hadn't been for Arya staying with her every night and consoling the mage, Hawke would have burrowed in anger and bitterness until the very light she represented became completely shrouded in darkness.

Arya rose from their bed and gently laid Hawke's head on a nearby pillow. She cried every night and sometimes she wasn't even awake when the tears came. It broke her heart to see her lover in such a state, but there was nothing more she could do than hold her tight and force her to eat. Hawke was a strange creature when it came to grief, or so the Fereldan thought as she rested her arms on the ledge near the chandelier. Unlike many people she knew, Hawke was fully able to go out and pretend that she was taking her mother's death fine. While they were out on missions and helping out Aveline or one of her other companions, the mage was smiling and laughing all the while. It wasn't until she got home that the sadness seeped under her skin and made her want to crawl under her covers. Arya stood by the portrait of Hawke's mother and recalled all the pleasant memories she had made with the elderly woman. She would have continued to remember, if it weren't for a slight rustle of sound that caused her to be on alert. She quickly ran towards Hawke's room and just as quickly stopped as she peered through the crack in the door– it was Isabela. She watched as the rogue sat by Hawke's bedside and gently brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead. Her amber eyes were soft, as they looked down at the mage's worn out appearance.

Arya slowly backed away from the door, but a piece of her robe caught on the wood and pulled it ajar slightly more than it had been before. The rogue took notice of this immediately and made to escape, but stopped when Arya commanded her to.

"Don't leave!" Arya spoke barely above a whisper for fear of waking Hawke.

Isabela muttered at her damned luck but made no move to exit through whichever means she had used to break in. The rogue walked out of the room and stood near the stairs, indicating that she would talk where Hawke would be sure not to hear her. Arya followed after taking one last caring glance at the mage.

"Why come at night?"

"When else would I come?" Isabela muttered and looked away from Arya's prodding eyes. "All other times of the day she's too busy putting up a façade of happiness." Isabela sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "She's being an idiot, that fool."

"She's lost her mother. It's all she can do to keep strong." Arya tried to rally to Hawke's defense but even she felt that it was half-hearted.

"Don't be just as fool hearted" Isabela snapped back, "she's got friends, you know; she doesn't need to be strong all the time… she's got friends like Varric, Fenris, Anders, Merrill, Aveline and you."

"And you." Arya concluded with a smile.

"You know, you're too nice for your own good. I'm not your friend, and I'm not Hawke's… we just… well what does it matter?" Isabela threw her hands in the air and began to descend down the stairs. "Just…" her eyes turned soft once more, "take care of her, alright? I can't have her all depressed when it comes time to retrieve my relic."

Arya nodded and watched as the rogue slinked back into the shadows and disappeared into the night. She was almost certain that this wasn't the first night Isabela had snuck into Hawke's estate or watched her sleep. The mage had all but forgotten the rogue she had once loved but it was a topic that was forbidden for Arya to bring up. Hawke was already sad as it was, and bringing up Isabela would be another source of sorrow. Although the two somewhat conversed with each other it was always formal and business-like.

Arya returned, nestled beside Hawke and let the mage rest on her chest. Tomorrow would be another day and there was the possibility that Hawke would feel better, or in the very least give her a genuine smile. Arya waited for that smile until her very last breathe.

. . .

"I…" Hawke wanted to deny the ability to smile, but she saw that the girl was struggling to stay alive, and that this was her last request so she smiled. She smiled as she watched Arya's lilac eyes dilate and her lips curve into a small smile– she was gone.

Hawke let the smile fade away as her lover grew ever more limp in her arms; she was alone after all.

"Hawke," A voice called out to her and the mage responded.

She looked at the pirate with eyes that begged for an answer; an answer that Isabela could not supply. The rogue knew Hawke was dying on the inside, that her heart was now completely shattered, but this was never Isabela's forte. She couldn't fix the darkness that followed Hawke from the Deep Roads, nor the loss she felt when her mother was murdered, and now that her lover had been slain during the Qunari revolt Isabela felt even less sure of her role. True she had come back with the Tome of Koslun, but she hadn't expected this to happen. If she knew this was going to happen, simply put, she would have never returned.

"Why Isabela, why? Everyone… I love…" Tears rushed down the Champion's face as she struggled to compose herself.

Varric and Aveline, with the help of the Knight-Commander began to clear out the nobles that had been taken as hostages, so that Hawke would have the proper privacy to mourn Arya's death. Merrill stood by, her big green eyes watery as she fretted on how to comfort Hawke. The elf nudged Isabela who shrugged her shoulders in response, but after another puppy-dog look from the elf, she sighed in defeat. The rogue sat by the mage and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry…" Isabela was at a loss of what to say. She looked upon Arya's face and felt a pang of guilt strike her thieving heart. Hawke would surely blame her for her lover's death. If she hadn't taken the Tome of Koslun, then Arya might have been spared.

"She wanted to help, and I… I let her…" Hawke let out a moan of regret as she lay the girl on the floor.

"No sweet thing you didn't let her die. This isn't your fault." Isabela pulled the grieving Hawke towards her and brushed her hair. "Blame me, hate me. My selfishness has caused you so much pain." The rogue whispered in her ear.

Hawke felt the rogue begin to rise and knew that Isabela was going to leave. Hawke clutched on to her shirt and pulled her back down. The mage was pushing her limits, after her battle with the Arishok she was bruised and bashed to the point of almost losing consciousness. She had dueled for Isabela much to the rogue's discomfort and guilt.

"Don't leave… I…" Hawke searched for the words that would make her stay. "I… could never hate you."

"Then you're a fool." Isabela retorted as she pulled the mage off of her.

Hawke didn't have the strength to grasp Isabela again, nor did she have the heart to keep fighting. The pirate watched as the Champion slid on the floor in defeat. Her body was cut in several places and it was all because she agreed to a duel for Isabela's freedom. She should have refused the duel, and blown up everything like she usually does. Duels were for romantics, a proof of love and respect, a show of strength and command– none of these things she expected from Hawke, yet all of these things she had proven to her. It was all too much for the pirate and as Hawke looked up at her with watery eyes, Isabela did what she knew how to do best– she disappeared on the ocean waters and turned her back on the woman she was afraid to love.