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Serena stared into a pair of eyes identical to her own for what felt like an age. Those eyes—the eyes of the portrait—seemed a tad brighter than what her own must look like right now.
A smile that was barely there tugged at the lips of the woman in the painting, so much different than the scowl the same woman was wearing now. Serena sighed deeply and took a sip of wine.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Serena turned almost instinctively toward the voice that could be none other than Isabela’s. The pirate was leaning against the door of the library as if she’d been there for some time, a guarded expression on her face.
Hawke had given up on asking how Isabela always managed to find her way in long ago. Instead, looking at her, she remembered she had not run a comb through her hair since she had woken up that morning.
“I’ve half a mind to toss it in the fire,” Serena said, turning towards the painting again. If truth be told, the painting itself wasn’t half bad. Leandra had commissioned one of the most skilled painters of Hightown to paint her eldest daughter’s likeness. But that was before, and now the painting sat in the library unfinished.
“And the other half?” Isabela asked, leafing through a book she had found lying around.
“Tossing it in a dark storeroom, never to be seen again sounds appealing, too.”
“Lots of tossing, then. No having it finished and hung over the fireplace?”
Serena shook her head. The painter had come after Leandra’s death, offered his condolences and asked Serena to sit for the painting again, but she had refused. She had paid him his wages and he had left, but not before exclaiming that no reward was greater than having his work displayed in the Hawke estate.
“Then let Fenris hang it in his decrepit mansion. The unfinished painting of a Hightown lady will only add to the place.” Isabela smiled, but Serena rolled her eyes. “You could sell it,” she suggested. “Or have Varric sell it. Just don’t tell our Guard Captain.”
“Why would anyone want to buy my portrait? My unfinished portrait?” Serena asked, half annoyed but thoroughly perplexed.
Isabela shrugged. “Why wouldn’t they? Are you or are you not the Champion of Kirkwall?”
Serena tsked and rolled her eyes again. It turned out her mood was more wretched than she had originally thought.
Isabela snapped the tome shut and tossed it onto a cluttered end table next to the canvas. The two women stood side by side, examining the painting.
“Andraste’s granny pants,” Isabela giggled. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else than pose for that painting,” she observed.
“Nothing so extreme as that. I simply look indifferent. The painting had been mother’s notion, you see. I simply obliged her.”
The mood shifted at the mention of Leandra. A heavy silence loomed in the air around them. Serena’s tongue felt heavy and clumsy. She raised her goblet to take another sip of wine, take the edge off.
Just then, Isabela’s hand found Serena’s. Their fingers intertwined and the heaviness from before seemed to dissipate. There was only the feeling of Isabela’s palm against her own—it made her smile despite herself. Isabela rubbed her thumb over the back of Serena’s palm.
“What were you thinking about?” Isabela asked in a quiet, gentle tone, gesturing towards the painting.
“Bear, actually.” Serena replied almost instantly. Isabela laughed as she reached for the goblet in Serena’s other hand. The sound of it gave Serena butterflies.
“You were thinking of you hound?” she chuckled. “Fereldans…” she sighed almost fondly and took a long drink of wine.
Serena found herself smiling. “I am glad you’re here,” she said softly and felt herself blush.
Isabela drained the last of the wine. “This wine is terrible,” she grouched and placed the goblet on the end table.
For a moment, Serena thought Isabela did not hear her, but then she was certain the complaint about the wine was an attempt at deflection. There was a knock on the door, which meant they could not discuss this at the moment.
“Someone here to see you, messere,” Bodahn called from the other side.
“I’ll be with you presently, Bodahn,” Serena called back, trying to prevent her disappointment at the interruption from colouring her voice. She sighed and turned to Isabela.
Isabela placed a finger on Serena’s lips to silence her before she could make her apologies. “Leave your window open tonight. There’s somewhere I want to take you,” she whispered and kissed Serena on the cheek.
Before Isabela could pull away completely, Serena kissed her softly on the lips. She wanted to thank Isabela for coming to give her what small comfort she could, but perhaps that gratitude had better be expressed at another time. “I will see you tonight,” she said instead and kissed her once again.
Serena walked out of the study, closing the door behind her—Isabela would surely find her way out as easily as she had found her way in—and went to attend her guest, already looking forward to her evening with Isabela.