Chapter Text
Solona stepped past the threshold, gazing in wonder at the small establishment. The Pearl. The place didn’t really look especially sexual, as she’d imagined. It actually looked like a cozy inn. It was definitely cleaner than the one right by the marketplace they had visited earlier.
“So, let’s get rid of those mercenaries and get out of here.” She muttered. She didn’t know what she was doing here – it wasn’t as if they needed the coin sergeant Kylon offered. But for some strange reason here she was, inside a brothel of all places, clearing out unruly brutes while the Blight raged on.
“Or perhaps we could stay after the fight. The rooms here seem less filthy.” Zev smirked, drawing a quick smile from her.
It didn’t take long for them to find the mercenaries. In fact, they were sprawled all over the place, drinking and laughing and being generally disgusting. She sighed, sharing a look with Alistair before pinpointing the man that seemed to be somewhat in charge.
“Oy there, pretty gal. You wanna join in?” The man immediately tried to grope her, but she easily brushed away his clumsy hand.
“Hey! Don’t you dare touch her.” Alistair bristled next to her, drawing the man’s focus.
“And who are ye? The bouncers s’pposed to keep yer mouth shut.” The man dawdled, stabbing a finger towards Alistair.
“I am not a working girl. Get your ass up and out of this establishment, the other patrons would like you to get lost.” She cut in before Alistair could shout, glaring at the miserable wretch.
“Ye sure? I’d pay a lot of gold fer a fine piece of arse like ye.” The man stared luridly at her breasts, almost drooling at the sight. She fought the urge to hit him over the head with her staff. Using the bladed edge.
“Get lost, now.” Alistair growled besides her, his voice dipping dangerously. But the man was either too drunk, or too dumb to realize just how dangerous Alistair was.
“Stuff it up yer own hole! We are the White Falcon!” He swung a fist at Alistair, wild and clumsy blow which Alistair easily avoided.
“That’s it! I asked nicely once!” She snapped, shoving the man hard. The drunk bastard stumbled and fell into the chair behind him with a pained grunt. Solona bent down and stared right into his eyes, her hands holding onto the armrests to keep him trapped there.
“You either get your sorry ass out the door right now, or I will fucking set you on fire!” She hissed at him, glaring as hard as she could at the man.
“Uh…” the bastard finally seemed to sober up a bit. “Right. I have business elsewhere. That’s right.” He mumbled, avoiding her eyes. She straightened up to allow the wretch to stand.
“Men! We have that… thing we need to do. Move out.” He called out, before fleeing the building altogether. The rest of the mercenaries sauntered after him, tripping and swaying heavily with loud complaints.
“Disgusting.” She muttered, shaking her head.
“Does this mean you’re more intimidating than I am?” Alistair wondered out loud, drawing a chuckle from the elf.
“Was there any doubt?” Zevran grinned as Alistair laughed. She just rolled her eyes.
After she accepted the thanks from the brothel’s owner Sanga and the promise of discounts of her workers, Solona doggedly headed for the doors while ignoring Zevran’s half-hearted complaints of leaving the brothel without taking advantage of said discounts.
But the clash of weapon-steel ringing out stayed her foot, the flashes of daggers drawing her eyes. Solona turned her head to find a woman – a beautiful, erotic to the point of dirty woman – simply beating three other brutes into a pulp. Within moments the men fled the brothel, leaving the woman alone to drink in peace.
“Did you see that?” She whispered to Alistair.
“Hmmm… what? Sorry.” He looked down to her, a light blush evident on his face.
“Did you see her fighting? That was amazing!”
“My dear Warden, Alistair saw more than her fighting. Ah, her breasts are simply magnificent, aren’t they? Voluptuous.” Zevran chuckled behind them, making Alistair blush furiously.
“No I wasn’t! Slander! Sol, I swear I wasn’t looking at her boobs. Not that they’re not nice, but I wasn’t!”
Solona simply laughed before walking up to the woman drinking there, intending to introduce herself. But the woman spoke first as she caught sight of the three of them.
“And look who we have here. Come to apologize for leaving me bereft of my lord husband and then vanishing without a trace?” She stood up, sloshing the ale in her mug. Solona stared at her, until Zev spoke behind her.
“You know it was just business, Isabela. Business that turned out well for you, I see — you inherited the ship, I take it?”
“Hmph. I suppose I never did like the greasy bastard. And the Siren treats me far better than she ever did him.”
“You two know each other?” She looked between the two of them, not bothering to hide her surprise. Zevran grinned, sweeping an arm out dramatically.
“Indeed. This is Isabela, queen of the eastern seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn. And Isabela, my dear, you will no doubt be amused to discover that I am traveling with Grey Wardens.”
“Grey Wardens? Charmed.” She could feel her gaze lingering on her skin as it swept over every inch of her body. Solona shivered, feeling a light flush creep onto her cheeks.
“Your fighting skills are impressive.”
“I assume you saw that little drama? None of these poor brutes has ever proven a match for me. They are too clumsy and predictable. I call myself a duelist because I honed my skills in duels with warriors I encountered over the years.” Isabela drank some more ale before wiping her mouth, grinning proudly.
“Will you teach me how to be a duelist?” Solona asked. Please, please let her say yes!
“Ha! An unusual request coming from a fearsome slayer of darkspawn. I am flattered that you wish to learn from me, sweet thing. But aren’t you a Mage?” The woman eyed the staff she was carrying across her back warily.
“Yes, but I can fight with daggers too!” Solona stood as tall as she could, glancing quickly at Zevran. “Zev’s been teaching me. I promise I will be worth your while, Isabela. Please?”
The woman looked questioningly towards her elf, who nodded. “It’s true. She’s skilled, Isabela.”
“Okay, if you say so Zev. I do, however, wish to get to know my potential student better, so we shall call for a drink and you will honor me with a game. If you win at the cards, I’ll teach you. If I win, hmm… well, I am sure I can think of number of things I want from you.” She winked suggestively, drawing yet another blush.
“Are there no other ways for us to get to know each other?” She asked a little timidly. There was no way she was going to cheat at cards successfully, and Solona was absolutely certain this sexy woman was going to cheat.
“Do you have… something else in mind?” Her eyes seem to dance.
“I don’t know. We could talk? You know, swap stories, grab a drink…” She trailed off, searching for a hint of her preference. But Zevran coughed delicately, his eyes clearly amused.
“My dear Warden, Isabella here prefers… other methods of familiarization. She can get very… personal.”
“Oh. Oh.” Solona was certain she was crimson now. “Uhm… okay.” She stuttered out. “Got it. Yes.”
“Wait… are you suggesting… with her? I mean… wow. And here I am, awake and everything.” Alistair finally stopped ogling at Isabela, bringing his eyes over to hers. Embarrassment made her defiant.
“Why not?” She challenged him, feeling her ears burn.
“Perhaps your friend is feeling left out? There is always room for one more… yes?” Isabela smiled, lifting her hand to drag it along Alistair’s arm. He hastily backed away.
“Err… boundaries, hello? Are you really sure you want to… you know…”
“You could join in. It will be interesting, for both of us.” She begged with her eyes, though she tried to keep her words composed.
“Interesting, she says.” Alistair sighed, exasperated. “Like it was a good book, or maybe a delightful pastry. Interesting.”
“Oh it will be interesting, I can assure you.” Zevran grinned, watching him shake his head.
Alistair responded in kind, grinning wickedly as he looked at Solona and winked. “Well, I’ll say it. I am a weak, weak man. I guess I’ll have to play along.”
“And what about you, Zev? Shall we, for old time’s sake?” Isabela looked to her elf, extending the invite.
“Oh, Isabela,” Zev sighed. “You and your ridiculous appetites… perhaps we should leave it up to our friend here?”
“You’re coming. That’s an order.” Maker take her should she try this… endeavor without someone who was familiar with such things.
“Ooh, saucy.” He grinned, licking his lips. “How can I say no?”
“Come, my ship is down by the docks, and I am sure you will find my cabins quite… comfortable.”
She, of course, had no idea what she was getting herself into.