I didn’t expect her to be there in the middle of the day. Normally, she’s out and about doing her duties as Champion. It was just a small, silly thing… I had forgotten my underwear in her room when I had left that morning after breakfast. It was a relatively common occurrence, after all. I did it occasionally on purpose.
In this case, by the time I had noticed, I had become embroiled in a bit of an incident at the bazaar involving some overly fragrant fish from the fish monger and perhaps a bit of issue regarding a stolen bit of jewelry, all of which I was completely innocent of. I hadn’t the time to get back to Hawke’s mansion until early afternoon. Bodahn and Sandal were out and about, probably at the market. I didn’t need them to let me in anyway, Hawke’s locks were as easy to pick as she was to me. I let myself in to her bedroom to retrieve my little silky darlings, when I saw her there.
She was still half-clothed. Her boots were carelessly left on the floor in a heap, alongside her waist sash and more restrictive clothing. She seemed to have climbed into bed and barely covered herself, one creamy leg sprawled out invitingly from under the covers. Her breathing was slow and even, and she had a smile on her face. It was adorable.
She was also clutching my panties in one hand.
I watched her sleep for a few moments, before feeling the pull of my own eyelids. I had been feeling rather tired up that day, and the thought of an afternoon nap suddenly seemed very appealing. I removed my boots and armor, placing them next to hers on the floor, and slid myself into bed next to her. Her body reacted to the shift in weight, but she didn’t wake up. Instead, she simply smacked her lips a bit and rolled over onto me, her arms finding my waist and her head finding my bosom. She found a comfortable position and settled in. I could feel her warmth spreading through the sheets as well as my own body.
"Alright, sweet thing. You can be on top this time," I murmured to her as I settled back on the pillows and let myself drift off to sleep.
Her only response was a contented little snore.
Anonymous: If Isabela was to be killed in action Yes if my favorite pirate was to he no more how would she liked to be burried at sea or at a church burial yard
Oh, I’ve had this long since planned out. I originally wanted to be buried at sea, but the more I thought about it, the less appealing it became. If I were buried at sea, nobody could ever find me again. Whatever’s left of me would just be eaten by the fish somewhere. And I shudder to think of what would happen if they decided to bury me at the Chantry. My remains would probably burst into the holy flame of Andraste or something for all the sins I’ve committed over my lifetime.
Instead, my duckling, I’d want my bones turned into a sex toy for Hawke. I’d be bound up, smoothed out, and have a few runes attached to vibrate and adjust temperature for fun. I know she likes the lightning runes. That way I could continue to bone her for as long as she desired even after I’ve passed. And what better way to be remembered than to be the one who keeps giving her pleasure from beyond the grave? If she ever found another lover, we could even end up in that threesome I’ve always wanted with her.
I’d also have someone give my skull to Aveline, because I don’t think she’s ever gotten head before and she seems like she could really use it.
Anonymous: Isabella have you ever considered a change in career from Pirate Princess to some other trade
I have! Top sources have assured me that should I ever decide to give up my profession as a pirate, I would find great success as a griffon wrangler. I’m quick, I’m clever, and I am no stranger to dealing with irate, hairy creatures. Wrangling griffons has got to be easier than fighting in duels, and from then on it would simply be a question of capturing them, training them, and caring for them. I could spend my days stalking and hunting them, training them to do tricks and follow commands, and be the envy of little children everywhere. I could ensure that lucky little elves would get the baby griffons of their dreams.
Though I imagine they probably wouldn’t smell all that wonderful. Maybe I should think this out a bit more.
Sometimes it’s the little things that make you smile when you’re with someone. It isn’t the big, sweeping gestures or the romantic getaways, though those are quite nice. Sometimes it’s just the little things.
The way she always sneaks her raspberry onto my plate at dessert time because she knows I like them.
The way that she purses her lips when she’s thinking hard about something.
The way she always looks at a bright light source right before sneezing.
The way she wishes she could paint her nails more often, but laments how those gloves she wears tends to ruin the finish.
The way her eyes light up whenever we visit the jeweler and a new pair of earrings catch her eye. Silver or platinum, usually, with emeralds or sapphires, I think.
The way she likes to pour a little maple syrup on her breakfast sausage and eat it with her pancakes.
The way she likes to idly stroke my hair when we’re spending an evening in front of the hearth reading our favorite books.
The way her lips move as she writes.
The way she sometimes bursts into giggles in the middle of really good sex. She swears she isn’t ticklish, but I know better.
I haven’t had much opportunity in the past to notice the little things. I’ve never stayed with anyone long enough to find those endearing qualities like this before. It was always other little things instead… things that annoyed or aggravated me. Boots and smelly socks left strewn on the floor, loud lip smacking when eating, bad breath, excessive scratching, that sort of thing. I’m not sure why I never noticed those about Hawke… Perhaps I managed to roll the dice perfectly. Maybe I’m just mellowing out in my old age.
Anonymous: Isabela can you tell us all about your experince of baby siting l am doing next doors sons next weekend
I’m sorry, I have to laugh. Me? Taking care of children? My darling, I don’t mean to be cruel, but do you need to have your head examined? The very thought of me caring for a child is ludicrous. I’m the woman that parents warn their children away from. In theory, I could probably take care of a child for a short time and keep it out of trouble, but… well, are you really willing to entrust a person’s like to me? Especially a child who’s incapable of taking care of itself?
I mean, really. I like getting drunk. I like having sex. You’re more than likely to find me spending time in places of ill repute like brothels, gambling houses, and taverns, and I like it that way. Most people point to me as a prime example of what not to encourage in their children. They’ll learn to cheat, lie, and steal from me. They’ll learn how to take advantage, how to fight, and when to run. And they’ll probably learn more than a little salty language.
The only time I can imagine anyone willingly entrusting their broodlings to me would be times of utter desperation. I’m not saying it’s never happened before… there was that unfortunate kidnapping incident that one time in Antiva, but, in my defense, the children were returned safely and I honestly didn’t know that the plan was to hold them for ransom until after the guardsmen arrested me.
"Thanks for the drink, lady, but I don’t think you’re my type."
"Oh don’t worry about that. I just wanted to have a little chat. I’ve seen you around the Rose."
"I thought you looked familiar."
"You’ve got a thing for the elves, don’t you?"
"There’s nothing wrong with enjoying some wild nights."
"Oh, no judgement from me. I’ve had an elf or three in my day as well. The bendy ones are especially delicious."
"You said it. I love the way their eyes look at you while they’re on their knees."
"And the way they stretch…"
"How many have you had?"
"Oh, if I had to guess, at least eight."
"Eight? That’s nothing. I’ve had over a dozen."
"I have heard that you had your eye on one in particular."
"What, the lonely little one in the alienage? Oh, I’ve got my eye on her alright. The loneliest ones are always the most eager to please."
"I’ve heard she’s friends with the Champion."
"Not like it matters to me. Champion or not, that one’s still lonely. A little coin, a sympathetic ear and she’ll be bending over backwards in no time, just like the rest."
"A little sure of yourself, aren’t you?"
"She’s already eating out of my hand. Next I’ll have her eating out of my lap, if you know what I mean."
"You don’t think the Champion would do something about it if she found out?"
"The Champion does have that nasty righteous streak. This one might just disappear. "
"Are you sure that’s wise?"
"What can the Champion do about a tragic accident? There’s plenty more where she came from. They’re just elves, after all."
"I thought you’d say that."
"Hey, what are you doing? Put that thing away!"
"I started hearing a rather nasty rumor about someone preying on elves in the alienage about the same time that a friend of mine came to me, telling me about a lovely human man that had offered to help her."
"You can’t prove anything! It’s your word against mine!"
"I probably can’t. But I never really gave a shit about proof anyway."
"Wait! We can talk about this!"
"We can talk later. First, my blade has a very important meeting with your balls."
Anonymous: Has lsabela ever fallen heals over head with the wrong person
Oh yes, my lovely. I’ve most definitely fallen for the totally wrong person before. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t find myself regretting my circumstances to some extent. Things were so damn easy before. Get in, get some coin, get out. Have a good time. Drink, eat, play, sail, fight, and fuck. Day in and day out. It was grand, going wherever I wanted, doing whomever I wanted. What more could I ask for? What more could I ask for?
And then I met Hawke.
She was smart, she was funny, she was gorgeous. And she was so good in bed. And then…
When I’m alone, sometimes I wonder whether it’s all a huge mistake. This whole… thing. Spending so much time with someone. Trying to make her happy. Ugh, wanting to make her happy. I mean… it provides some benefits you know. The warm sensation inside when she does something to please me. The little gifts, the help whenever I need it. The security of knowing someone capable and strong has my back. The smiles, the touches, the little squeezes… the meals, the laughs, and the stories… And I can’t forget the fantastic sex, of course.
Despite all this wonderment and pleasure, the situation still scares and worries me… just how vulnerable I’d be if things were to capsize on me. If I let my guard down, I could be killed. I could be hurt. If I let her in and start trusting, I could lose everything. If she wanted to, she could utterly destroy me… I could end up penniless, dead, sold to slavers, or handed over to those who would be pleased as punch to pull out my entrails through my nostrils with a dull spoon. And the thought of someone, anyone, having that kind of power over me frightens the shit out of me.
So yes, I would definitely say I’ve fallen for the wrong person. I’m not even sure there’s a right person. I thought I could escape. I thought I could just run, get away, get back to the way things were before, when they weren’t so bloody complicated… and I tried. And somewhere, somehow, I found myself right back where I started. Like a moth to a flame, I’m still here. Maker help me.
axl99: Isabela, it's no secret you enjoy all of Hawke's snacks. Do you have any favourite memories of one she's made in particular?
I do. There are a lot of memorable snacks that I’ve eaten, but I think the one that stands by me the most was soon after I returned from three years at sea. I was a bit nervous as to seeing her again, and despite her reassurances, both physical and not, it was still a bit difficult to wrap my head around the idea that she still wanted me. It wasn’t just the usual “Oh, you’re back. Sounds good, let’s have some fun while you’re here before going our separate ways again” that I expected, the sort of agreement I’ve had with my other acquaintances and past lovers. It was something more… it felt more… genuine. And that scared me.
What does all this nonsense about feelings and the like have to do with delectable snacks? I’m getting to that.
I went to Hawke’s place on a lark. I wanted to do… something. Get a little reassurance that this wasn’t serious, that we were just having some fun, and maybe have her hump my brains out for a few hours. You know, the usual sort of thing a couple of friends with benefits might do. Instead, I found myself at an empty mansion. I let myself in and made myself at home… you know, helping myself to a bottle of something tasty, trying on some of her fancy dresses, sniffing her more exciting underwear, that sort of thing.
And then I came across a square locked box in her bedroom.
It was tucked away inside her closet, perhaps a single pace to each dimension, and very intricate design. Little floral patterns were etched around the lock from top to bottom, and the more I examined it, the more I realized it was a very difficult lock to open. There was an internal timer which shifted the tumblers, so locking one in place would only last depending on the state of the previous tumblers, so the nearest would change in minutes, while the deepest would only take seconds. and There were at least seven tumblers to move. The mechanisms inside were actually slowly rotating on the same timer, meaning that the lock would actually require a three-dimensional key, and any attempts to pick would require precision timing. The heavy mahogany box itself, of course, was bolted down, and I could see some telltale signs along the hinge and edges that any attempt to force it would cause the box to seal itself shut. All in all, it was a formidable bit of security and the most fun I’d had opening a box since the last time I saw her naked.
I slowly worked it open and peeked inside. I actually wasn’t sure what to expect… at the time, I thought gold, jewels, scrolls, some sort of other valuables. Instead, there was a small ceramic bowl wrapped in a familiar-looking silken scarf. I examined the cloth and realized that it was one of mine. She must have saved it from before I had left. I slowly unwrapped the scarf from the bowl, and then I saw it.
Inside the bowl was a small raspberry tartlet. Small, glazed fruits sat beautifully on a bed of creamy-looking chocolate custard, surrounded by a flaky-looking dark chocolate crust. The entire thing was sprinkled a bit with some powdered sugar, and it was freshly made. There was a small note folded beneath it.
I took a bite of the tart. The flavor was exquisite - the tang and tart of the berries mixed wonderfully with the smooth creaminess of the custard, and it was all balanced wonderfully by the crisp, flaky crust in my mouth. I licked my lips, savoring even the errant crumbs before I opened the note to read it. The note had only three words written in Hawke’s pretty flowing handwriting.
All it said was “Welcome back, Isabela”.
"Captain, parcel for you," announced Guardsman Brennan from the office door.
"You’re sure you weren’t followed?" the guard captain asked carefully.
"No, ma’am. I’m certain," Brennan replied.
"Good. Just leave it on my desk," ordered Aveline, as she finished filling out the document on her desk. She signed the arrest warrant, placed it onto the woefully short-looking stack in the box marked "Done", and lifted another from the much taller stack in the box marked "To do".
Brennan nodded and placed the wrapped paper package on the desk in a clear spot, saluted, and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
A few moments passed as Aveline continued to write the description of the cutpurse that had been reported through the Lowtown bazaar. She added a bit more to the description, glanced over it one last time, then placed it into the “Done” box. She glanced around, making sure she was alone, before examining the parcel. Confident that it was what she had ordered, she placed it into her lowest desk drawer and locked it with a small iron key.
The hours ticked by as she finished her paperwork, drilled the new recruits, checked the armory inventory, and finished the assignment schedule for the coming fortnight. The sun had already begun to set as she began her final task for the day - making sure that the reward payouts matched the books. It was her least favorite task, and all of the numbers always gave her a headache, but it needed to be done. Donnic, her husband, knocked from the entryway.
"Are you sure you want me to go home, love? You know I can wait for you here," he called.
"No, that’s alright. You’ve just worked two shifts. I know, I assigned you. Go home and rest, Donnic. That’s an order," she said with a smile.
"You’d best take your own advice, love. Don’t work too long," he replied.
"I certainly won’t complain if you’ve got a warm supper waiting for me when I get back," she suggested.
"As my captain commands," he said, saluting.
She continued to work into the evening, as the day’s shift returned from their patrols and the evening shift began theirs. The sounds of boisterous revelry came from the the barracks, bringing a small smile to the captain’s face. She did not join the drinking or the dicing, however. The steadfast guardswoman continued to work until the job was done. She breathed a sigh of relief as she looked over her finally-empty “To do” box, and stretched in her seat. Her metal armor creaked a bit as she stood, but she paid it no heed. As she gathered her things, she quietly looked around again for prying eyes. Seeing none, she unlocked the drawer and withdrew the parcel.
She hugged the package to her chest as she closed her heavy wooden office door behind her. She waved to the cheerful off-duty guardsmen who nodded and waved back at her with smiles and salutes as she ascended the stairs to the Viscount’s foyer. She glanced behind her to make sure she was not followed, then quickly turned a corner and rushed into the coat closet. She peeked a second time to ensure that none had seen her, then closed the door behind her.
Confident she was alone, she lit a small lantern that she had squirreled away for just such an occasion. The cheerful light illuminated the closet and provided a bit of comfort from the musty smell of old travel-worn coats. She paid them no heed, sitting with her back to the wall, as she tore the parcel open.
The package contained a hardcover book, the title emblazoned on its cheap leather binding with red and gold flourishes. “Passion in the Barracks, Volume II” it read. The Fereldan woman licked her lips as she opened the book while beginning to flip through the pages inside. Silently cursing at not being able to find what she was hoping for, she continued to flip through the pages, skimming for certain words.
The door suddenly opened outward, blowing fresh air into the closet. The lantern flickered. Aveline jerked up from her seated position, shocked and surprised. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach.
"A ha!" exclaimed Isabela, grinning like the cat that had eaten the canary.
"W-what are you doing here?!" demanded the surprised captain, shock still written all over her face.
"I knew you were reading it!” crowed the smug pirate.
"I- I was…" stammered Aveline.
"It’s on page 74, by the way," the corsair continued blithely.
"W-what?" asked the flustered redhead.
"That sex scene you’re looking for. Some of my best work," Isabela said, relishing every moment.
"I… I wasn’t!" began Aveline.
"See you later, big girl. Enjoy," finished the dusky pirate.
The dusky Rivaini closed the closet door and left, whistling a sea shanty. It took a few moments for the captain to quiet her pounding heart, but she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She looked around again to make sure she was really alone this time, and flipped the book open to page 74.