A/N: So this chapter is obviously shorter than most of the previous ones. However I wanted to get something out to my readers this week, and since the last chapter wasn't the happiest, I wanted to write something a bit warmer. Thanks for the continued readership and enjoy!

Chapter 10: Return

Hawke sat silently underneath the giant oak tree on the outskirts of Kirkwall, which resided far enough from the Wounded Coast to be considered hospitable. The hustle and bustle of the city was gone, and the Champion could hear nothing but the rustling of the leaves and the whispers of the wind. Her eyes trailed the ground and rested upon a small but well kept statue in the distance. She got up and walked towards the erected statue and upon coming to the white, obelisk-shaped monument, kneeled at its base.

"I've brought you some hydrangeas…" Hawke sighed as she laid them down, "your favorite, right?" The champion kept her head bent down, her forehead practically touching the stone base. "Feros wishes you would come visit; he knows you're the only one that is prone to his charms enough to give him cutlets of veal." Hawke continued to speak in a hushed tone.

After moments of silence passed, Hawke extended her limbs and laid her body flat on the cool grass and dirt. She lay flat and closed her eyes. Somewhere below her were the remains of her past lover, and for nearly three years Hawke had been visiting and laying on the ground routinely. She wondered if Arya could see her from wherever she was; if she could feel her through the multiple layers of dirt. All her comrades had expressed worry over her daily routine but none dared to intervene, although Merrill did accompany her from time to time. The strange elf did not fully understand what Hawke was doing when she lay on the dirt but she followed suit and smiled at her forlorn comrade anyways. Merrill had been the most shocked by Isabela's disappearance and could not fathom why she had left Hawke three years ago when the mage needed her most. The elf was fine company enough, but she knew that Hawke's heart could not be healed by her words or her touch because what the mage had lost, the elf had never really known or discovered as of yet, so she just kept by her side and mourned in her own way.

"It'll be my birthday soon… I can't believe how old I've gotten since coming to Kirkwall." The mage felt older than she should have; wizened by misfortune and ravaged by pain. "I remember the first time you celebrated my birthday with me. You baked me a cake and everything. You even threw me a small party… I…" Hawke bit down on her lip as she clutched at her aching chest, "I miss you."

The sun began to sink past the horizon and shadows quickly caressed the mage. Hawke shivered as a rushing wind whirled by carrying the essence of cold in its twirling arms. She wanted to nestle further in the ground and hoped to find warmth there that she had lost, but the dirt and grass were too compact for her to dig through. The champion rose to her knees and placed a light kiss on the monument before she left. It was cold and hard… nothing like Arya, but all she had left of her former Fereldan lover.

Tomorrow would mark the day that Arya had been taken from her, the day she had been born and the day Isabela had left her. It seemed wrong that so much should be renewed in such a short mark of time, but the mage could do nothing about it. As the sun rose, and the Champion with it, change began to rise as well. Hawke understood that her companions would most likely be planning some kind of festivity to celebrate her birthday, or possibly to ease the remembrance of Arya's death, or both actually. It never bothered Hawke that they tried their best to aid her in recovering from her sorrow, but sometimes she felt even more pressured to please them than in actually recovering. Often times she would just wear a mask of happiness and that was enough, for the most part.

The Champion completed the menial tasks given to her throughout the day from various sources, and after visiting Aveline, agreed to having a small party at her estate for the sake of her friend's comfort. The time lurched forward and Hawke felt weaker and weaker as it did. They all arrived one by one until no one was missing except for Merrill. This was strange to Hawke, who knew the elf was probably the one who suggested the party to Aveline in the first place, and decided she would go retrieve Merrill herself. The rest agreed to wait up until the frolicking elf could be found, and busied themselves with decorating and preparing dishes.

When Hawke appeared at the alienage, a neighboring vendor near Merrill's humble abode told her that the elf had gone to the tavern in search of a gift. Hawke chuckled lightly and wondered what in the world Merrill would be planning to give her that could be gotten from the Hanged Man. Chance, by now, was fully awake and as he would have it, the mage just missed the quirky elf exiting from the Hanged Man. Merrill had just left when the mage entered and scanned the room for her big, green eyes, but none were to be found, instead she found a pair of amber eyes resting heavily upon her. She was stunned, frozen, paralyzed. Isabela had been gone for three years, or would have been exactly on this day. Before long the pirate signaled for the mage to join her at the bar, and before Hawke could choose whether or not to go, her body moved forward.

She sat, never taking her eyes off of the rogue, and felt her heart pound against her chest at an uncomfortable pace. Isabela nervously shifted her gaze towards her empty mug and sighed.

"Look Hawke, I already told Merrill I wasn't going."

Hawke wondered if she had even really woken up today or if her dreams were playing some cruel trick on her. Isabela's voice sounded so real yet so far away. Hawke remained in a stupor, unable to speak and too afraid to possibly wake up.

"Andraste's tits Hawke say something!" Isabela slammed her mug on the bar.

"I… I'm not sure if you're real." Hawke managed to speak.

Isabela frowned at the honest confusion in the mage's voice and moved her hand to grasp the mages. She gaze it a light squeeze and quickly pulled it away before the mage could latch on.

"I'm real, sweet thing." Isabela wore a sad smile as she looked in the mage's piercing blue eyes. "Anyways I told Merrill I wouldn't go… I don't deserve to."

"Merril? Go where?" Hawke was barely coming to.

"To your damned party. She assured me that I would be the perfect…" Isabela looked away as she muttered, "gift."

"Gift?" Hawke raised an eyebrow.

"Damn Hawke did you go brain dead while I was away?" Isabela jested as she lightly slapped her thigh.

"Perhaps…" Hawke let a small smile out. "It'd be impossible to get you in a box nicely laced up without you ripping it to shreds anyways."

Isabela chuckled, "now there's the Hawke I know."

"You deserve to come… you don't deserve to stay away." Hawke suddenly shifted the tone of her voice, which caused the rogue some level of surprise.

"I don't deserve or not deserve anything." Isabela retorted childishly as she backed away from the leaning mage.

"I wonder what you'll make of this then." The mage spoke in a dangerous tone, somewhere in between desire, love and vengeance. She backed the rogue against the wall and pushed her lips hungrily on the pirate's. She could care less if the rogue wanted it or not; she could care less if she wanted it or not.

"Hawke, stop." Isabela managed to say as she pulled Hawke's face from hers.

"Why?"

Isabela ventured into Hawke's eyes and found them hauntingly empty.

"What do you mean why?" She shoved the mage angrily, "Because I said so, that's why."

Hawke stumbled as she was thrown back but regained her footing quickly enough. Directly in front of her stood her former pirate queen and she looked like the perfect embodiment of anger and spite.

"It's what you owed me in the very least." Hawke muttered as she looked down at the ground– this was not how she wanted this to happen. "A kiss. Either for winning the duel all those three years ago or…" Hawke felt her chest tighten, "to say goodbye. You should have said goodbye, Isabela." Hawke turned quickly to leave.

She didn't give the pirate any time to react and half expected her to never show up in her life again. However that was all pushed to the back of her mind, or as far back as she could force it, while she was enjoying the small banquet held in her honor. Merrill had arrived on her own which caused the others to worry about Hawke's disappearance, but upon the Champion arriving everything commenced in a splendid manner. They all drank to their hearts content and dined on fine meats and bread all through the night. Hawke wanted to ask Merrill about Isabela, but the poor elf had long since drank past her normal limitations and had taken ill. Gradually each of the Champion's companions bid her farewell and left for their homes.

Hawke threw herself on her large bed and hoped that the alcohol would grant her rest and make this Maker awful day end already. Her eyelids grew heavy and she felt that rest would soon overcome her, until a rattling of metal could be heard nearby. Hawke looked to the side and saw a familiar shadow creeping her way. As it neared the light, Hawke was able to make out Isabela's features. The rogue sat next to the sprawled out mage and spoke.

"I didn't come back just to fight with you." Isabela began, "I'm sorry."

Hawke wondered if she should drink anymore of that strange wine that Varric had given her. Now she was having strange visions of Isabela apologizing and that was far crueler than any other fictitious fantasy yet.

"You've gone stupid again, I see." Isabela put on a wily smile as she positioned herself to straddle the dumbstruck mage. "I may not be too good at apologizing with words but," she planted a kiss on the mage's lips, "I'm quite good at this." She began to trail her kisses on the edge of Hawke's jaw and along her untouched neck.

Hawke allowed herself to be undressed and busied her hands with unraveling the pirate's intricate laces until she was just as naked. As Hawke sat there completely naked with Isabela on her lap, she realized how gentle her pirate queen was being; how patient she was as Hawke threw her corset on the floor. It was usually at this point when Isabela would push her roughly against the bed and place her in all sorts of strange, but highly pleasurable, positions, yet that's not what happened. Instead, Isabela let her honey eyes glaze over the champion's blue ones and they seemed to swirl as Hawke's lit with life. They were so different compared to the lifeless husks they had been at the tavern; an emptiness that scared even Isabela. Hawke blushed as Isabela caressed her face and gently laid her on the bed; none of this was familiar. A surge of emotion was fixing dead center on the mage's chest and she felt it tighten as Isabela dropped nearer to her body. She couldn't wait any longer; her emotions would tear her apart if she did, so Hawke pulled Isabela on top of her so that the pirate's flesh would meld with hers. She didn't mean to cry, but it was what she did as she burrowed her face into the crevice of Isabela's neck.

"Shhh…" Isabela hushed the mage and kissed at her tears. "I…" Isabela wanted to say what she had spent three years thinking over, but Hawke's lips silenced her.

Suddenly the mage's desire did more than silence her as their positions changed and Hawke now straddled the pirate. She touched all the places she knew Isabela was most sensitive at and reveled in the moans of her long lost lover. Each place she touched, she felt her fingertips burn and wondered if that was her magic at play or simply Isabela's affect on her. Hawke receded her hands from the pirate's supple body and used them instead to hold down Isabela's wrists at her sides. It had been so long since the mage had tasted the rogue or anyone at all. She bit on Isabela's neck and lightly sucked to produce a throaty groan from her partner. Her lips hummed as she trailed a path lower, caressing every delicate spot with her tongue. At long last she arrived to her destination and knew just what to do to make Isabela cry her name in ecstasy. So she did just that and flicked, sucked and stroked until her pirate was right at the edge, however it wasn't fair unless Hawke was there too. She returned to Isabela's lips and kissed her so that their tongues could revel in reunion, and placed her so that their cores would be able to also revel in union. Hawke knew the pace that would unwind Isabela slowly and began to move her hips. Isabela had never done it quite like this with Hawke, or anyone for that matter, and although she wouldn't admit that it was to her preference, she had to admit that it was rather good. Hawke couldn't remember the last time she called out Isabela's name as she just had, but Isabela had been calling out Hawke's name regardless if it was actually Hawke she was making love to. Hawke crashed into her lover and lay on top of her so that her pounding heart would have another beat to follow. Isabela wrapped her arms around the mage and pulled her closer– she was so different from the sea. Constant, warm, soft, these were the things she had come to miss while she was out on the vast sea.

"I have to go Hawke." Isabela murmured into her ear.

Hawke looked up, worry and confusion in her eyes.

"Back to the tavern, I mean." Isabela chuckled as she sat up. "I'll be there if you need me."

"I need you." Hawke quickly responded and held on to her arm.

"I'm almost positive you're already spent and so am I." Isabela knew what she was asking for, and although she wouldn't mind, it wasn't her custom. "I can't stay."

"Please…" Hawke pulled gently, "stay."

Isabela pulled her arm away from the mage's grasp and felt a crack form at the base of her heart as she saw Hawke's defeated gaze rest on her. This was too much; she hadn't expected the sex to go in the direction it had gone in. She thought she would come in here and apologize to Hawke the way she had always done when she hurt Hawke one way or another, but something was different.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" Isabela smiled as she headed out. "I can't change overnight you know." She finally sighed as she stopped at Hawke's bedroom door.

"Overnight?" Hawke clenched the blanket in her fist. "Isabela… it's been three years. I…" Hawke wasn't sure what she wanted to say.

"I need some time Hawke. I did come back for what it's worth I don't quite know." Isabela quickly exited before the mage could get underneath her skin again.

That night the mage slept with a small ember in her heart barely flickering with light as she nestled in the cold darkness that she had been accustomed to for these three years. The rogue didn't sleep at all as she contemplated whether or not to go back to Hawke or stay true to herself, and hated the fact that she was even contemplating sleeping overnight in Hawke's bed.