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rose_in_winterCharacters: Fenris, Mage Female Hawke, Sebastian Vael (Fenris/f!Hawke/Sebastian)
Rating: NC-17
Contains: Canon-typical violence, explicit sex
Fic Wordcount: 117,000
Chapter Wordcount:
Notes: Canon-divergent, ignoring most of Act 3. A thousand thanks tosenmut's Discord server for cheering and brainstorming and reactions and encouragement.
Beta: breadedsinner and MikWrites_InSpace
Summary: After the duel with the Arishok, Ariane Hawke looks around at the wreckage of her life in Kirkwall and asks herself: what is left for me here? As tensions increase between the Circle and the Templars, she turns to helping Sebastian retake Starkhaven. Meanwhile, she is trying to figure out how to love Fenris when he hates mages, and also definitely not looking at Sebastian's gorgeous eyes. Definitely not. Neither is Fenris. Sebastian is not looking back.
Definitely.
Canon divergence in which almost all of act 3 goes in the bin, and three damaged people try to find a way to live with each other and themselves, and maybe heal a bit.
Chapter index here.
Caves, Hawke decided, were the same no matter where they were: dark, damp, and echoing. This one had some twists and turns, which was not really a recommendation. Ambushes were much harder when the opposition was more familiar with the land.
They had shielded lanterns, which gave them a minimal amount of light without vividly announcing their presence to anyone else who might be lurking in the cave. It was the fourth such cave they had investigated in the past two days. The others had contained dust, fungus, and spiders. This cave was remarkably empty of the same, which might mean that other people had been here recently.
Whether they were the ones she wanted to find was a different question.
Fenris was taking the lead, with Sebastian guarding the rear. Hawke was in the middle, ready to sling magic as needed. The cave floor sloped down dramatically under them. The entrance had been under a rocky overhang not too far off the main road, and the Vimmark Mountains were still far to the north, so it wasn't surprising to be going ever deeper, but that didn't mean she liked it. She hoped there wasn't an unmarked entrance to the Deep Roads ahead. She'd had enough of darkspawn for a lifetime.
Fenris paused, and Hawke stopped immediately. Ahead, she could hear a faint murmur of voices, but they bounced off the walls so that she wasn't sure exactly where the voices were coming from. They had not passed any branching tunnels, so probably no one was sneaking up behind them, but she tried not to assume safety.
They crept forward, one slow step at a time. Ahead, a faint flickering light--as from a fire--grabbed at the wall with spindly fingers. The voices were growing louder, though she still couldn't identify them or determine how many speakers there were amid the echoes, just that she only heard feminine voices. Fenris unsheathed his sword slowly to reduce noise. Hawke gripped her staff.
Holding the weapon in a defensive posture, Fenris walked forward--and stopped. Hawke nearly ran into him. In the open space before them, two women sat near a fire. The nearer one had blonde hair gleaming in the firelight. She looked up, saw Fenris, and screamed.
A very familiar voice said, with great precision and clarity, "Fuck."
"Isabela?" Hawke tried to lean around Fenris for a better view; as ever, he shifted so that he was between her and a potential threat. Despite the bad angle, Isabela's mass of gold jewelry and blue kerchief were still visible, and unmistakable.
On the other side of the fire, Isabela lounged back on her elbows, which pushed her ample bosom into straining against the laces of her top. Hawke noticed that she also had her hand wrapped around the hilt of a dagger, and did not lower her staff. "Hello, Hawke," Isabela said, but the insouciant tone was shaky.
"You know them?" the other woman asked, her words heavy with an Orlesian accent. Now that Hawke's eyes had adjusted, she saw that the blond was much younger than Isabela, and while she wore clothes suitable for rough travel, they were of very high quality--better than Hawke's own.
Isabela gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I do." She eyed Fenris and Hawke. "Are we fighting, or talking?"
"I'd rather talk," Hawke said.
Isabela sat up and let go of the dagger, crossing her arms. "Then let's talk."
Fenris lowered his sword, but didn't sheathe it, stepping forward to allow Hawke and Sebastian to enter the room. Isabela's eyebrows climbed when all three of them were visible. "Quite the welcoming party," she drawled. "Something I should know?" She gave a significant look first to Fenris, then to Hawke, and lastly to Sebastian.
Hawke was no more willing to gossip about her relationship now than she'd been after her mother's death. She kept the frown off her own face with effort. "Perhaps introductions are in order," she said instead. She looked towards the blonde. "I'm Ariane Hawke."
The girl's pale eyes widened. "The Champion of Kirkwall?" she asked, and then shook her head, seeming to recall herself. "I am Clarice."
"Clarice de Telvignon?" Hawke asked, though surely it couldn't be that common a name.
Clarice scowled. "My father sent you, then," she said.
Isabela's hand crept nearer her dagger, and Hawke didn't think it was out of any kind of altruism or chivalry. Self-preservation was, as always, Isabela's top priority. Hawke kept an eye on her but spoke to Clarice. "I begin to think that your father was not entirely truthful with me, so let's try seeing what we both know." She gave a half smile. "You don't seem particularly captive--unless it's to Bela's charms, in which case I couldn't blame you."
Clarice blushed, but her gaze remained steady on Hawke's. "All right," she said, "we'll talk."
Hawke leaned against the cave wall to her left and let the butt of her staff rest on the ground.
Clarice fidgeted. "You said captive," she said. "Is that what he told you? Is that how he convinced the mighty Champion of Kirkwall to hunt me down?"
Hawke could've cut the scorn with a knife. "Titles don't buy food," she said lightly. "I was informed that ruffians had kidnapped Edouard de Telvignon's beloved daughter and also made off with some kind of relic."
"If this is about money, I have plenty," Clarice said. "I'll pay you to go away and tell my father I'm dead."
Fenris snorted.
Hawke gave her biggest grin. "Well, now I'm intrigued. Surely before you buy me off, you could explain?" She eyed the fire. "Isabela, if I come over there, are you going to stab me?"
"Maybe." Isabela's grin was as sharp as the blade.
"Considering she almost died fighting the Arishok for your honor," Fenris grated, "the least you could do is offer a seat at your fire."
Isabela's grin turned to a smirk and she sheathed her dagger. "Ah, that's how it is," she said. "Come on, then." As they approached, her eyes narrowed. "Who did you leave in the passageway?"
"There's only three of us," Hawke said, choosing a seat across from Isabela since Fenris had moved to sit to her left. Sebastian settled down behind Hawke, a watchful presence at her shoulder.
"Is that so?" Isabela's gaze flicked past her. "I didn't know they let you out of the Chantry unchaperoned. Is this some sort of scandal?"
"You know perfectly well the ship of my innocence sailed some time ago," Sebastian said equably.
"Only from your stories." Isabela winked. "Talk is cheap."
Hawke cleared her throat. "Alright," she said to Clarice, "a truth for a truth. I owed a favor to a noblewoman in Kirkwall. She told me I could settle the debt by doing a service for someone else--Edouard de Telvignon."
"Then you made a very bad deal," Clarice said. "Yes, that is my father--but as you surmised, I have not been kidnapped."
Hawke nodded. "You wrote the ransom note yourself."
Clarice frowned. "Did he tell you that? I took pains to disguise my writing."
Score one for me. "I can't tell you if he recognized it, but no mere thief uses paper that good, nor writes with the flourishes of an Orlesian noble," Hawke said.
Clarice sighed. "I knew I was going to fumble something," she murmured.
"So," Hawke said. "You wrote your own ransom note, and I'll assume that the relic box he claimed was stolen is in your possession. I think I'm fairly clear on the what, but what I want to know is the why."
"You've spoken to him." Clarice shrugged, as if that explained everything.
In a sense it did, but Hawke wanted more than assumptions in her quiver when she went back to claim failure. "I'm also curious why a pirate queen is involved," she continued. That wasn't the only question she had about Isabela, but it was the one she might get answered, if she was lucky.
Clarice straightened and lifted her chin. "To make a long and dull story rather shorter, my father was contemplating four suitors for me, each of which would enhance his standing and be a miserable partner to me. I was negotiating through an agent for someone to take me to Hercinia, and met Isabela." Here she blushed, quite prettily. "She helped me come up with the plan to mislead my father. I was going to meet him in Kirkwall and return his relic through an intermediary, then carry on with my own plans. That's what he--and my supposed suitors--really wanted anyway. I have two older sisters who are eager to play the Game on their own terms. They are welcome to it." She turned and rummaged in the pack beside her, then withdrew a wrapped item. "This is the relic," she continued. "I can pay you to return only this to him."
Hawke looked at Sebastian. He was frowning. Fenris shrugged.
"Fifty sovereigns," Hawke said.
"Twenty-five," Clarice countered. They bargained, and ended at forty, as Hawke had expected. The girl counted out her coins and handed them over.
"The advice is free," Hawke said as she accepted the bundle. "Next time, wait for your pursuer to ask to be bought off, else they might just knock you out and have you and the money."
Clarice smiled faintly. "Were you anyone else, I would," she said, "but the Champion of Kirkwall is known for her honest dealings." She glanced at her companion. "Isabela said that you were likely to be hired to come after me, and that you would accept my bargain."
Hawke raised her eyebrows.
"A bold assumption," Fenris said.
Isabela at least had the grace to look abashed. "Look, I panicked," she said. "I couldn't think of a way out."
Sebastian's voice was very quiet and very mild, and all the more cutting for it. "So you left Hawke to take your punishment."
"Well, I'm not dead," Hawke said, desperate to redirect this before it turned into combat against someone she still rather liked despite having been left to hold the bag. She stood. "Any words you want me to pass on to your father?" she asked Clarice.
"He'll understand without them," Clarice said. "I do not wish to waste any more of my time or thought on him."
Hawke nodded. "Fair winds to you, Bela," she said. I hope you find what you're looking for.
Isabela looked at her, then at Fenris and Sebastian. "Three people fit in a bed just fine, you know," she said. "You should quit dancing around each other."
Hawke felt the heat of a blush climbing her face and she turned away, not dignifying the comment with a response. Fenris limited himself to a scornful noise. She led the way from Isabela's campsite and held her silence as they made their way through the cave.
"Hawke," Sebastian said quietly, "you didn't have to let her off so easy."
Hawke sighed. "I don't want to fight her," she said, "and it wouldn't change anything. She is who she is, and the Arishok is dead."
"Strange," Fenris said, "that you'll fight a Tevinter magister or a Qunari Arishok without a second thought--"
"Wait," Sebastian snapped, and Hawke froze. She squinted in the sunlight falling through the cave entrance a double body-length ahead until she saw what Sebastian had--the unmistakable sign of poison traps blocking the exit.
"Fuck," she muttered, and then it began.
Chapter Nineteen
Rating: NC-17
Contains: Canon-typical violence, explicit sex
Fic Wordcount: 117,000
Chapter Wordcount:
Notes: Canon-divergent, ignoring most of Act 3. A thousand thanks to
senmut's Discord server for cheering and brainstorming and reactions and encouragement.Beta: breadedsinner and MikWrites_InSpace
Summary: After the duel with the Arishok, Ariane Hawke looks around at the wreckage of her life in Kirkwall and asks herself: what is left for me here? As tensions increase between the Circle and the Templars, she turns to helping Sebastian retake Starkhaven. Meanwhile, she is trying to figure out how to love Fenris when he hates mages, and also definitely not looking at Sebastian's gorgeous eyes. Definitely not. Neither is Fenris. Sebastian is not looking back.
Definitely.
Canon divergence in which almost all of act 3 goes in the bin, and three damaged people try to find a way to live with each other and themselves, and maybe heal a bit.
Chapter index here.
Caves, Hawke decided, were the same no matter where they were: dark, damp, and echoing. This one had some twists and turns, which was not really a recommendation. Ambushes were much harder when the opposition was more familiar with the land.
They had shielded lanterns, which gave them a minimal amount of light without vividly announcing their presence to anyone else who might be lurking in the cave. It was the fourth such cave they had investigated in the past two days. The others had contained dust, fungus, and spiders. This cave was remarkably empty of the same, which might mean that other people had been here recently.
Whether they were the ones she wanted to find was a different question.
Fenris was taking the lead, with Sebastian guarding the rear. Hawke was in the middle, ready to sling magic as needed. The cave floor sloped down dramatically under them. The entrance had been under a rocky overhang not too far off the main road, and the Vimmark Mountains were still far to the north, so it wasn't surprising to be going ever deeper, but that didn't mean she liked it. She hoped there wasn't an unmarked entrance to the Deep Roads ahead. She'd had enough of darkspawn for a lifetime.
Fenris paused, and Hawke stopped immediately. Ahead, she could hear a faint murmur of voices, but they bounced off the walls so that she wasn't sure exactly where the voices were coming from. They had not passed any branching tunnels, so probably no one was sneaking up behind them, but she tried not to assume safety.
They crept forward, one slow step at a time. Ahead, a faint flickering light--as from a fire--grabbed at the wall with spindly fingers. The voices were growing louder, though she still couldn't identify them or determine how many speakers there were amid the echoes, just that she only heard feminine voices. Fenris unsheathed his sword slowly to reduce noise. Hawke gripped her staff.
Holding the weapon in a defensive posture, Fenris walked forward--and stopped. Hawke nearly ran into him. In the open space before them, two women sat near a fire. The nearer one had blonde hair gleaming in the firelight. She looked up, saw Fenris, and screamed.
A very familiar voice said, with great precision and clarity, "Fuck."
"Isabela?" Hawke tried to lean around Fenris for a better view; as ever, he shifted so that he was between her and a potential threat. Despite the bad angle, Isabela's mass of gold jewelry and blue kerchief were still visible, and unmistakable.
On the other side of the fire, Isabela lounged back on her elbows, which pushed her ample bosom into straining against the laces of her top. Hawke noticed that she also had her hand wrapped around the hilt of a dagger, and did not lower her staff. "Hello, Hawke," Isabela said, but the insouciant tone was shaky.
"You know them?" the other woman asked, her words heavy with an Orlesian accent. Now that Hawke's eyes had adjusted, she saw that the blond was much younger than Isabela, and while she wore clothes suitable for rough travel, they were of very high quality--better than Hawke's own.
Isabela gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I do." She eyed Fenris and Hawke. "Are we fighting, or talking?"
"I'd rather talk," Hawke said.
Isabela sat up and let go of the dagger, crossing her arms. "Then let's talk."
Fenris lowered his sword, but didn't sheathe it, stepping forward to allow Hawke and Sebastian to enter the room. Isabela's eyebrows climbed when all three of them were visible. "Quite the welcoming party," she drawled. "Something I should know?" She gave a significant look first to Fenris, then to Hawke, and lastly to Sebastian.
Hawke was no more willing to gossip about her relationship now than she'd been after her mother's death. She kept the frown off her own face with effort. "Perhaps introductions are in order," she said instead. She looked towards the blonde. "I'm Ariane Hawke."
The girl's pale eyes widened. "The Champion of Kirkwall?" she asked, and then shook her head, seeming to recall herself. "I am Clarice."
"Clarice de Telvignon?" Hawke asked, though surely it couldn't be that common a name.
Clarice scowled. "My father sent you, then," she said.
Isabela's hand crept nearer her dagger, and Hawke didn't think it was out of any kind of altruism or chivalry. Self-preservation was, as always, Isabela's top priority. Hawke kept an eye on her but spoke to Clarice. "I begin to think that your father was not entirely truthful with me, so let's try seeing what we both know." She gave a half smile. "You don't seem particularly captive--unless it's to Bela's charms, in which case I couldn't blame you."
Clarice blushed, but her gaze remained steady on Hawke's. "All right," she said, "we'll talk."
Hawke leaned against the cave wall to her left and let the butt of her staff rest on the ground.
Clarice fidgeted. "You said captive," she said. "Is that what he told you? Is that how he convinced the mighty Champion of Kirkwall to hunt me down?"
Hawke could've cut the scorn with a knife. "Titles don't buy food," she said lightly. "I was informed that ruffians had kidnapped Edouard de Telvignon's beloved daughter and also made off with some kind of relic."
"If this is about money, I have plenty," Clarice said. "I'll pay you to go away and tell my father I'm dead."
Fenris snorted.
Hawke gave her biggest grin. "Well, now I'm intrigued. Surely before you buy me off, you could explain?" She eyed the fire. "Isabela, if I come over there, are you going to stab me?"
"Maybe." Isabela's grin was as sharp as the blade.
"Considering she almost died fighting the Arishok for your honor," Fenris grated, "the least you could do is offer a seat at your fire."
Isabela's grin turned to a smirk and she sheathed her dagger. "Ah, that's how it is," she said. "Come on, then." As they approached, her eyes narrowed. "Who did you leave in the passageway?"
"There's only three of us," Hawke said, choosing a seat across from Isabela since Fenris had moved to sit to her left. Sebastian settled down behind Hawke, a watchful presence at her shoulder.
"Is that so?" Isabela's gaze flicked past her. "I didn't know they let you out of the Chantry unchaperoned. Is this some sort of scandal?"
"You know perfectly well the ship of my innocence sailed some time ago," Sebastian said equably.
"Only from your stories." Isabela winked. "Talk is cheap."
Hawke cleared her throat. "Alright," she said to Clarice, "a truth for a truth. I owed a favor to a noblewoman in Kirkwall. She told me I could settle the debt by doing a service for someone else--Edouard de Telvignon."
"Then you made a very bad deal," Clarice said. "Yes, that is my father--but as you surmised, I have not been kidnapped."
Hawke nodded. "You wrote the ransom note yourself."
Clarice frowned. "Did he tell you that? I took pains to disguise my writing."
Score one for me. "I can't tell you if he recognized it, but no mere thief uses paper that good, nor writes with the flourishes of an Orlesian noble," Hawke said.
Clarice sighed. "I knew I was going to fumble something," she murmured.
"So," Hawke said. "You wrote your own ransom note, and I'll assume that the relic box he claimed was stolen is in your possession. I think I'm fairly clear on the what, but what I want to know is the why."
"You've spoken to him." Clarice shrugged, as if that explained everything.
In a sense it did, but Hawke wanted more than assumptions in her quiver when she went back to claim failure. "I'm also curious why a pirate queen is involved," she continued. That wasn't the only question she had about Isabela, but it was the one she might get answered, if she was lucky.
Clarice straightened and lifted her chin. "To make a long and dull story rather shorter, my father was contemplating four suitors for me, each of which would enhance his standing and be a miserable partner to me. I was negotiating through an agent for someone to take me to Hercinia, and met Isabela." Here she blushed, quite prettily. "She helped me come up with the plan to mislead my father. I was going to meet him in Kirkwall and return his relic through an intermediary, then carry on with my own plans. That's what he--and my supposed suitors--really wanted anyway. I have two older sisters who are eager to play the Game on their own terms. They are welcome to it." She turned and rummaged in the pack beside her, then withdrew a wrapped item. "This is the relic," she continued. "I can pay you to return only this to him."
Hawke looked at Sebastian. He was frowning. Fenris shrugged.
"Fifty sovereigns," Hawke said.
"Twenty-five," Clarice countered. They bargained, and ended at forty, as Hawke had expected. The girl counted out her coins and handed them over.
"The advice is free," Hawke said as she accepted the bundle. "Next time, wait for your pursuer to ask to be bought off, else they might just knock you out and have you and the money."
Clarice smiled faintly. "Were you anyone else, I would," she said, "but the Champion of Kirkwall is known for her honest dealings." She glanced at her companion. "Isabela said that you were likely to be hired to come after me, and that you would accept my bargain."
Hawke raised her eyebrows.
"A bold assumption," Fenris said.
Isabela at least had the grace to look abashed. "Look, I panicked," she said. "I couldn't think of a way out."
Sebastian's voice was very quiet and very mild, and all the more cutting for it. "So you left Hawke to take your punishment."
"Well, I'm not dead," Hawke said, desperate to redirect this before it turned into combat against someone she still rather liked despite having been left to hold the bag. She stood. "Any words you want me to pass on to your father?" she asked Clarice.
"He'll understand without them," Clarice said. "I do not wish to waste any more of my time or thought on him."
Hawke nodded. "Fair winds to you, Bela," she said. I hope you find what you're looking for.
Isabela looked at her, then at Fenris and Sebastian. "Three people fit in a bed just fine, you know," she said. "You should quit dancing around each other."
Hawke felt the heat of a blush climbing her face and she turned away, not dignifying the comment with a response. Fenris limited himself to a scornful noise. She led the way from Isabela's campsite and held her silence as they made their way through the cave.
"Hawke," Sebastian said quietly, "you didn't have to let her off so easy."
Hawke sighed. "I don't want to fight her," she said, "and it wouldn't change anything. She is who she is, and the Arishok is dead."
"Strange," Fenris said, "that you'll fight a Tevinter magister or a Qunari Arishok without a second thought--"
"Wait," Sebastian snapped, and Hawke froze. She squinted in the sunlight falling through the cave entrance a double body-length ahead until she saw what Sebastian had--the unmistakable sign of poison traps blocking the exit.
"Fuck," she muttered, and then it began.
Chapter Nineteen