What Would Mother Say

The first rays of dawn crept over the city of Kirkwall. Ships prepped to leave the docks for the open sea. The great foundries of Lowtown belched smoke as new metals were processed and readied for shipping. Merchants opened their stalls in preparation for another day of business.

In short, another normal day in the City of Chains.

In Hightown the streets were quite, except perhaps for a passing city guardsman on his or her patrol. The estates sat quietly as the noble families of Kirkwall slept the sleep of those secure in their positions.

In the estate of Garrett Hawke all was quiet, Orana, the Hawke's elven servant was only just beginning to stir from her bed. The Feddics, Bodahn and Sandal slept peacefully in their rooms, it was typical that the estate would not receive guest until at least nine bells, which meant that the Hawkes' manservant and his son could sleep in.

The morning sun had only just begun to creep into the upstairs windows of the Hawke estate when the door to the master bedroom opened slowly and silently. A figure stood in the doorway her golden eyes checking for any signs of life. Seeing none, the dark skinned beauty slinked stealthily from the bed chamber.

"Tip toe, tip toe, nice and slow," she whispered to herself.

She was not the typical woman one would expect to find in Hightown, her clothing was a bit bedraggled, the dirt and dust of Lowtown clung to her like a second skin, her boots, once made of the finest of Antivan leather, were patched in some places but still carefully polished, much as the daggers which graced the two sheaths on her back. The only acknowledgement of wealth was the fine leather corset Hawke had bought her after their first night together.

Isabela did her best to be quiet; her boots were carried in her left hand as she moved quietly down the master staircase. She silently cursed herself; she should have left hours ago. Normally she would have slipped quietly out of Hawkes' bed after he had fallen asleep, but she hadn't. She had not wanted to leave, her head resting on his bare chest, the sweet rhythm of his heartbeat singing her to sleep. She had ended up snuggling contently in the Apostate's arms. She had felt safe, warm, and comfortable.

Yes, she had been comfortable, perhaps too comfortable.

Isabela grimaced, wondering if she was making a mistake.

Last night had been a typical evening; she had accompanied Hawke, Fenris and Merrill on one of Hawke's nightly patrols through Hightown. They encountered a group of women calling themselves the Invisible sisters. A fight broke out of course, but that was to be expected. Hawke was not a man for negotiations.

She did not know why Hawke continued these nightly patrols. He really did not need the bounty money anymore, and since Lady Man hands had taken up with her fellow guardsman it was not likely that Hawke was trying to impress her anymore. Maybe he was just bored; if Isabela had to live up here in Hightown she was certain that she would get bored.

Of course there were other ways to amuse one's self than fighting; she thought with a wicked smile, she and Hawke had explored several of them last night.

One of the wenches had gotten lucky; she had managed to slice Isabela across the left thigh. The pirate had stumbled as she flipped back awkwardly, ending up vulnerable before sister's blades.

Hawke had not allowed that. He froze the bitch solid; shattering her body into a hundred pieces with a single swipe from his staff.

Merrill had been worried about her; it was nice to know that her kitten cared about her so. Fenris had been nonchalant; the Tevinter elf had seen many wounds in his time and understood that it was not as bad as it looked.

Hawke for one reason or another had disagreed.

He inspected the wound, it was not bad, but she would not likely be able to walk on it. Hawke had scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to his estate. He probably could have healed her right there, but Isabela had gotten to know Hawke quite well in the past few months. She knew when he wanted her for more than her fighting skills…

This had been one of those times.

After he had asked Fenris to take Merrill home, they were off. The estate was asleep by the time they had arrived; it was after midnight by then. It still amazed her at how quietly the apostate could move. He was so quick, so strong…the pirate had felt her mouth go dry every time she watched him.

She typically was not a one man, or woman, kind of woman, but Hawke…there was something more there…

Isabela found herself lying in Hawke's bed as he cleaned and tended to her wound. He had removed her boots as he tended to her, his hands gently caressing her dark shapely legs. She had felt the heat building in her belly, and so had Hawke apparently. The apostate had enjoyed teasing her, seeing the flush coming to her cheeks, the quickening of her breathing

As he leaned in close, she had kissed him, which was all it had taken. One minute he had been using his magic to heal her wounded leg, the next she was buck naked with her ass in the air.

Not that the Hawke part had not been nice, oh no Hawke was a tiger between the sheets. She had had few lovers who had had such stamina.

Even now the thought of him brought a wicked smile to her lips, part of her thought about turning around, going back upstairs, and giving the handsome apostate a proper good morning.

Down girl, she thought, Hawke does not need to be explaining what you were doing here so early to that mother of his. She doubted that Lady Leandra would understand.

No problem my lady, I just stopped by so that your son could bang me like a Tevinter war drum.

Isabela chuckled to herself that was one conversation she had no interest in having.

She made for the servants' entrance off of the kitchen; she could slip out the back way and be in Lowtown again in a matter of minutes. A quick bowl of stew at the Hanged Man and then it would be off to bed, for sleep this time…not recreation.

The door to the kitchen was open; it seemed that luck favored Isabela this morning. There was no sign of either the dwarves or the elf, perfect. She would just slip through the kitchen and be gone before…

"Good Morning,"

Isabela froze.

The Kitchen was dark, but it was not empty, sitting at the kitchen table, was Leandra Hawke, a steaming cup of tea warming her hands.

The pirate was speechless, oh boy, not good!

"It is… Isabela is it not?" Hawke's Mother asked warmly.

She nodded.

"Would you care to join me dear," Leandra motioned to the chair across from her, "I would like to talk with you if I could."

Oh bugger.