*Authors Note: Rated T for bad language. I apologise if anyone thinks it should be an M. My quick take on Isabela's thoughts during her return to Kirkwall. Written as a one shot but if you want a sequel I'm sure that it can be arranged. It took about two hours from start to finish so please ignore any minor errors. Apart from that - let me know what you think :-D * i

NB Dragon Age and it's characters do not belong to me - if they did I wouldn't be a poor writer living a bohemian lifestyle!

People call me cold, heartless. An evil pirate whore with a sharp tongue and daggers to match, and they'd be right. I feel no remorse when I slice my blade across the throat of a man who has done me wrong. I have no regrets when I leave the bed of another nameless, faceless, one-night stand. I harbour no guilt when I rob a struggling family of their last few coins. I am what I am, and I make no excuses for my behaviour. My philosophy is simple. Life is hard, deal with it!

Of course I would understand if you found my behaviour reprehensible, many do. But they have no awareness of just how unforgiving the world can be. When I was fourteen, my mother – who cared little for me to begin with and often cursed the day I was born – sold me to a man I'd never met for little more than a week's rations. It was on that day that I learnt never to trust.

A month later, after forcing himself on me repeatedly, he blackmailed me into marrying him. I was terrified, vulnerable; I didn't think it was possible to feel so alone. On that day I learnt how to suppress emotions. I built barriers around my heart that were so high even Andraste herself would fail to penetrate them.

When I was sixteen my husband was brutally murdered. I laughed in unrestrained glee as I spat on his corpse and watched his blood drain back down to the gutter where it belonged. I collected my meagre belongings from our festering hovel of a house and walked down to the docks. I boarded his ship – The Siren's Call - stood proudly on the deck and announced to thirty-five burly pirates that I was the new captain. Some of the crew jeered my claim, they questioned my authority, but they didn't laugh for long. That was the day that I learnt to be ruthless.

It took me twenty-six years to become the strong, emotionless and feared, Queen of the Eastern Seas. It took one rogue less than a third of that to unravel everything that I am.

"I didn't do it for them, I did it for you. It was always about you!"

It's been three years since I uttered those words in a fit of anger. Since I spat my self-hatred in her face and walked away, never once looking back. I thought that was the end of it. I thought that I'd leave Kirkwall, steal a new ship and forget that I ever laid eyes on Marian Hawke. But when I actually tried to do it - when I actually attempted to leave her behind - I found that it simply wasn't that easy.

On the day I first laid eyes on her in the Hanged Man, all I ever wanted was a small favour and a quick fuck. She was just another conquest to me, just another body to use and abuse for my own gain, but that was my first and biggest mistake. One meeting turned into two, and a favour turned into help. Before I knew what was happening I was following her orders, trusting her judgment and sleeping only in her bed. When I finally realised what I was doing - what I'd become - I got scared. The great and fearless pirate captain panicked, and I betrayed her as a result. I took the one thing she needed to save hundreds of lives and I fled to Ostwick…at least I got half way.

The conscience is a funny thing. Right when you least expect it, it hits you with a pang of emotion so strong that you can barely breathe. I hated myself for deciding to return. I despised the weak person she'd forced me to become. I wanted nothing more than to hand over that stupid tome, slap her smug little face and walk right out of that blasted city…but then she did something that no one's ever done before…she fought to the death for me.

When I watched her fight, when I saw the Arishok's blade sink into her abdomen, the pain was so real that I wanted to die. Emotions that I'd buried deep inside burst forth like a geyser and I couldn't contain the scream that ripped from my throat. She survived of course, she always does, but my armour did not. That was the day that I realised I was in love, and my only instinct was to run.

And run, I did. In the aftermath of the fight, in the heat of the moment, I turned from the security of her arms and I ran. I didn't stop running for three years. It was only when I realised that I wasn't running from her that I stopped for long enough to think. I was never running from her, I was running from me, the one person that I could never escape from.

So here I am, back in the tavern where everyone knows your name waiting uncharacteristically for the arrival of the Champion of Kirkwall and I have never been so scared in all my life.

Varric is the first of her group to arrive, his short legs and perfect chest hair a welcome and warming sight.

"Rivaini!" He shouts, his friendly voice rising above the tavern as if it hasn't been three years since we last spoke. "Where have you been? You don't write, you don't visit…the city guard haven't been the same since you left!"

I smile but the expression doesn't reach my eyes, "Oh you know me, I get around…."

"Yes we all know that!" Avaline's disapproving voice cuts in. She enters the tavern a step behind Varric, her expression as stony and hard as it ever was. "I bet men all over Thedas are cursing the slattern pirate that gave them VD."

I should be offended by her insult but it's impossible to feel anything other than a strange melancholy. "I missed you too Big Girl," I reply with a wink, "How's Donnic? Has he got his end away yet?"

"Why you…" She lunges towards me but Varric somehow manages to step between us as I find myself laughing at the speed in which I can still rile her up. Some things never change, like that stick she has wedged firmly up her arse.

"Isabela!" A small, slim figure powers into my mid-section, skinny arms wrapping around my ribs and squeezing the air from my lungs.

"Hello Kitten," I smile, glancing down to the elf nuzzling my breast and briefly returning the hug.

"Hawke will be so pleased to see you." She exclaims, "She's been so miserable since you left…"

"Merrill!" Aveline chastises, her low warning tone causing the elf to sink further into me.

"What?" She replies, "It's true. Only last week you said that you wished she'd cheer up. You said she was acting like an Arishock that had lost his tome. Although the Arishok didn't lose his tome, Isabela stole it and…" Her voice trails off as she notices three pairs of eyes staring back at her "…I'm going to stop talking now."

She slinks off to sit behind Varric and the Dwarf turns to me, "So why are you here, Rivaini?" He asks, choking on his first taste of ale, "It can't be for the beer!"

I struggle to think of a plausible reason that doesn't reveal the truth and state the first thing that comes to mind. "I missed the Blooming Rose," I reply, downing the rest of my whiskey and signalling to Corf for another, "Those whores can satisfy me in ways that no one else can…"

Aveline snorts in disgust but Varric grins knowingly, "She misses you too." He states with infuriatingly accurate insight, "Just don't expect her to admit it anytime soon."

I clear my throat, the mere thought of Marian doing all kinds of unnerving things to my insides. I don't like this feeling of helplessness. I don't like surrendering control. When did I become so completely reliant on another person? I swallow sharply but the words stick in my throat, "Do you...does she hate me?"

He takes another sip of the sour ale and sighs, "Well she sure as shit doesn't want to fuck you."

"Is that really why you came back?" Merrill chimes in innocently, "Because you missed the Blooming Rose?" She frowns, confused, "Serendipty's still there you know. She's such a lovely woman but, I never understood why she has such a deep voice…"

"Daisy!"

"Kitten…"

"She's a man, Merrill!"

I laugh at the ease with which I've fallen back into old habits. Their camaraderie is as strong as ever despite the years that have past and I have to admit, a part of me has missed them. Over the years I've sailed many seas with many sailors, but I've never had this, true friendship.

I turn to Avaline, grinning mischievously, "And how do you know she's a man?" I tease, unable to resist an opportunity to ridicule the straight-laced soldier. "You haven't paid for a ride, have you?"

Anger flares in her eyes as she clenches her jaw, "Shut it whore!" She warns.

"As frigid as ever I see," I observe, laughing when Varric spits his ale clear across the bar top. Behind him, Merrill sniggers but quickly covers it up with a cough at Aveline's dangerous glare.

"Keep talking like that Isabela and so help me Maker I'll have you in a cell by the end of the night," The guard captain huffs, puffing out her chest as she tries her hardest to conceal the blush that's spreading across her cheeks.

"Oooh threats," I joke, in that suggestive tone that she hates so much, "Saucy!"

She scowls, "I'll give you saucy…"

"Is this argument private or can anyone join in?" The clear, Fereleden accent cuts across the tavern and it seems as though everyone holds a collective breath at the sound. I'd recognise that voice anywhere…

"Hawke…!" Her name leaves my lips on a breath and a tight knot forms in the pit of my stomach. The smile slips from my lips as I look up to see her stood in the open doorway. She looks beautiful. As commanding and swoon worthy as the day I first laid eyes on her. Maker, I've missed her.

"Isabela," She replies curtly, her voice lacking the playfulness that has haunted my dreams. "Did you sink another ship, steal another priceless artefact. To what does Kirkwall owe the pleasure this time?"

My mouth is dry as I nervously scan the expectant faces of my friends. Where's my sass gone, my confidence? Why am I so incapable of functioning around her? "Can we…" I clear my throat, trying to summon the heartless pirate from deep within but she's jumped ship. "Can we talk…in private?"

Her dark eyes stare me down, a slender eyebrow rising in a silent challenge, "Why?" She asks, a hint of bitterness lacing her words, "Have you run out of backs to stab? I'm sorry, but my wounds haven't healed yet."

Her sarcasm is one of the things I love most about her, the way she can cut you down with a few simple words. It's not the same when it's directed at me though; it hurts just a little too much. I take a step towards her, "Hawke…"

"No," She shouts, her hand coming up to halt my advance, "You don't get to do this. You don't get to disappear for three years and then just walk back into my life as though you never left."

Normally I'd make a joke, try to deflect the emotional nature of our conversation but this time I can't. Not when I can see the scars of my betrayal so clearly in her expression, "That's not what I'm trying to do!" I reply, my voice small and unfamiliar.

"Funny," She scoffs, "Because that's exactly what it looks like to me."

Varric steps down off his bar stool, ever the intermediary between us, "Hawke, maybe you should give her a chance to talk…"

Her cold glare switches to her companion, silencing him before he can finish, "Would you?" She demands angrily, "If the woman you fought to the death for suddenly reappeared after three years?"

"Fair point," He concedes, offering me an apologetic smile.

I know that he's right. I know that she is. I should stand here and take her punches like the lying, backstabbing bitch that I am but I refuse. She's not the only one with scars, and just because I find it difficult to open up it doesn't mean that I hurt any less, deeply. "I didn't ask you to fight…" I reply, my voice hardening defensively.

Her brow furrows, "So what was I supposed to do huh?" She argues, folding her arms across the sandy leather of her armour, "Let the Quanari take you? Let the Arishok tear Kirkwall apart? You left me with no choice."

"You had every choice." I scream, unwilling to allow her to play the victim. "It's not my fault that you fell in love with me."

Several gasps echo around the shocked bar as all eyes focus on our stand-off. Marian stumbles back as if physically struck, and I instantly regret my spiteful comment. I won't apologise though. I never apologise.

"No you're absolutely right," She replies, her voice softer as she backs down, "The fact that you spent four years sleeping in my bed had absolutely nothing to do with it…"

"I never led you on," I cut in, certain that if I say it enough then I might begin to believe the lie. "You always knew where we stood."

She laughs but it isn't a joyous sound, "Then I guess I'm the foolish one for daring to hope for a little more."

I open my mouth to reply but there's really nothing to say. I can't argue with her logic regardless of how twisted it may be. My silence grows louder than any of our previous words and I want to say something but I don't know what. I'm not good at this. I don't do this.

Her shoulders slump in disappointment – it seems that I'm destined to disappoint her – and her eyes slowly slide from mine to land on her friends, "I'm leaving," She announces, "If anything urgent comes up you can find me at home."

"Hawke wait…" I've called out to her before I even realise that the words have left my lips and she stops in the doorway with her back to me.

"Go away Isabela…"

I lurch forward on legs that seem out of my control but for what, I don't know. Do I intend to grab her, to make her stay? Do I even have the right to demand such a thing when she never once tried to stop me?

"Hawke please…" I beg, but the sentence dies on my lips when I run out of words. I'm scared to say what I came here to say. I'm too frightened to let her in. In the wake of my cowardice, I say nothing.

The thought of another failed conversation causes her anger to spike and she spins around, pinning me with a heartbroken stare. "Piss off back to your ship or whatever flea infested hovel you crawled from," She spits, and every hate filled word is a dagger to my heart. "And don't try to play the scorned lover with me," She scoffs, rolling her eyes when my expression falls, "I know you. You'll open your legs for the first person that offers you a moment's pleasure…"

"Hawke…" Surprisingly, the intervening voice is Aveline's and I never thought that I'd see the day that she stepped forward to defend me. Her efforts are in vain however, the emotions that Marian has suppressed will be denied no longer. She wants to hurt me; she wants me to suffer in the same way that she has.

She steps brazenly forward, raising her voice to address the whole room, "Come on men," She taunts, "Who fancies a ride on the self-proclaimed Queen of the Eastern Seas? She'll probably let you all have a go, and she won't ask you to wear protection…"

I slap her. It's vicious and stinging, everything that she deserves and she knows it. Her hand instantly rises to rub at her cheek, her eyes tinged with regret as they meet mine. Is this the way things are always going to be between us? Is this as good as it's ever going to get?

"Marian…" Her forename - a privilege only few get to know and less get to use – slips longingly past my lips. Our eyes lock across the crowded room, there are so many words to say but no courage with which to say them. If she turns her back on me tonight then I will surely die.

Time passes, several agonising minutes in which I realise that she's no longer mine. I can't read her anymore, that fire in her eyes, that knowing smirk that was just for me, it's gone. Maker knows that I would sacrifice anything to get it back.

She shakes her head once, sadly, regretfully…and turns on her heel, hastily exiting the tavern.

Absolute silence engulfs the stuffy room and I can feel the eyes of fifty revellers boring into me. They expect a reaction, they expect a scene. They want me to curse, throw bottles, start a fight with an innocent drunk…they're waiting for me to grab the nearest man and drag him off to my room. It doesn't happen. None of it does.

Because tonight is the night that, Isabela – a scared, uncertain, vulnerable little girl from Rivain - sinks to her knees and cries.