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“Will you come here and live with me?”
Hawke says this out of the blue and Isabela almost jumps. She’s curled up at the head of Hawke’s bed, and Hawke is perpendicular to her, laying with her head on Isabela’s middle. They’ve been relaxing and unwinding during a brief downtime after a long excursion to Sundermount for some supplies for Anders. The estate is warm and the bed is soft, and they don’t have to be mindful of disturbing the mage or Fenris.
“This place—the manor… It’s so empty,” Hawke continues, lifting her head so she can look at Isabela. “It’s just a reminder of the family I couldn’t save. Maybe if I were quicker, or more clever, or if I’d paid closer attention… but no, Carver is dead. My mother is dead.” She has to suppress a sob. “My father is dead. Bethany is in that mage prison, and while she’s smart and careful, no mages are safe there.” Her words are becoming frantic. “I can’t protect her from out here. The templars could be doing anything to her, and I wouldn’t even—“
“Hawke!” Isabela nearly claps her hands so the woman will stop before she spirals.
“Sorry, I got a little carried away there. But I do wish you lived somewhere closer.”
Isabela does sit up then, letting Hawke readjust so her head is in her lap and they can make eye contact more easily.
“Now, I’m all for bothering all the fancy people of Hightown...” Isabela says carefully.
“But how are you going to see the world if you live here?”
“But how am I going to see the world if I live here?”
Hawke nods, unhappy, but not about to fight Isabela. “Okay.” She sits up to roll onto her stomach and lean over her elbows. “Will you think about it, though? What I mean to say is: there’s a place for you in the estate—there’s always going to be a place for you if you want it, even if it’s just while you’re stopping for supplies between adventures. I don’t want to pin you down.”
“Hawke…” Isabela puts a hand up defensively, but lowers it after a beat. “Yes. I’ll think about it.” She nods thoughtfully and cracks a wry grin. “Tiffany is my best friend.”
Hawk reaches one arm over Isabela’s lap and one around her back and squeezes, burying her face against Isabela’s thigh.
“She’s the best mabari from here to the Korcari Wilds. Thank you,” she says hoarsely.
Isabela strokes her hair. She can faintly feel tears on her shift.
“Hey, now, what am I supposed to do when you start crying on my clothes?” She asks wryly.
“Sorry, I can’t hold off and run to Merrill’s this time.”
“It’s alright.” She scratches at Hawke’s scalp, eliciting a pleased murmur, then runs her hand under the back hem of her undershirt. “Maybe we can get your mind off it.”
Hawke sniffs. “What, no vulnerable response to make us even?”
“I have a reputation to uphold!” Isabela crawls around the bed to lay next to Hawke and kisses her shoulder. “I’m a cold-hearted pirate, remember?” She nuzzles the side of Hawke’s neck and sprinkles kisses up her jaw and cheek. When Hawke giggles, she pushes her onto her side for a better position to kiss her slowly on the lips. When Hawke pulls away for a breath, Isabela pulls her back.