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Dedicated to the amazing sex worker with autism who filled my prompt needing Isabela to be loved and adored. You seem like the coolest person ever and I really hope this was okay.
It wasn't that Hawke was ashamed of her year working at the Blooming Rose. Considering her options, it seemed the obvious choice. It wasn't glamorous, but it was a lot more comfortable and a whole less illegal than smuggling or mercenary work. She got to pick her hours, got to sleep in her own bed every night, and genuinely liked the people she worked with. It wasn't her ideal job and sometimes it was stressful, but in the end that's all it was. A job. Not something defined her or had any bearing on her life all these years later besides the odd night out with former co-workers.
However, she was very careful of who she told about her former employment. She never told her mother, though Gamlen and Carver knew and went elsewhere during the time she was working. None of her friends knew except for Varric, who had actually met her at work.
Hawke's specialty had been massage and took a few clients who just wanted to relax for a while. Usually this involved sex, but sometimes it didn't. Varric just wanted someone to rub his aching muscles and to listen about his day. He came usually once a week for only thirty minutes or so in order to help his insomnia. When she was finished her employment, he offered her a partnership on his expedition. The rest, as they say, was history.
Or should have been if her friends were not constantly using that word. The one that made her flinch and feel sick to her stomach. Each time was a slap in her face, reminding her that if they knew about her former life, they would view her too as less than human.
Now, these comments were never directed at Hawke. Sometimes it was disparaging other sex workers, whether real or abstract. Most often it came as an insult against Isabela who embodied what they believed to be the key traits of a prostitute: loose morals, openly sexual, potentially diseased, and scantily clad.
Typically Isabela ignored these remarks and Hawke loved her all the more for it. If Isabela had ever protested, saying she was better than any of the people working at the Rose, then Hawke wouldn't have fallen so deeply for her. She hadn't told her that, worried she wouldn't feel the same. Worried that one day she would tell Isabela the truth and all of that bravado would fade, revealing a woman who was just as disgusted with the sex trade as the friends who shamed her.
But instead, one day, when everyone was traveling down the Wounded Coast to deal with marauders, Aveline said something to Isabela. Hawke didn't hear the first half of it, but could guess what word it included.
And suddenly Isabela snapped.
Isabela spun around to face the group. "Okay, enough is enough. If you want to insult me, that's just fine with me, but you're not going to throw an entire profession under the carriage to do it. Oh and don't look at each other like they're the villain and you're innocent. You're all guilty of shaming perfectly fine people just because of how they make coin. A perfectly decent and honest way to make a living, which is something most of the people here can't say, can they?"
She pointed first at Aveline. "You. You claim to be advancing the prospects of women in this city and you're discarding the fine businesswomen of the Rose and other establishments just because you can't find a way to untwist your own knickers? How dare you! Just because you don't like how often I knock boots doesn't mean that you get to denigrate the very people of this city that you've sworn to protect. Good and honest citizens that probably pay more taxes than you do."
Isabela turned to Anders. "And you, Mr. Bring Me Your Broken and Burdened. You run a clinic where you spend who knows how many hours of the day treating all sorts of nasty wounds on mercenaries and smugglers but start getting judgmental about the odd venereal disease? I bet you treat more sailors for the clap then you do any sex workers, don't you?"
Anders cleared his throat. "Yes."
"See? And you, Fenris. You I'm especially disappointed in. I shouldn't have to talk to you about bodily autonomy, should I?"
Fenris shuffled his foot. "No."
"Oh and don't think I'm leaving you out of this, Brother All Mighty. You might keep quiet about it, but I can see you smirk along with the rest of them. I'll have you remember the disciple Morwen who was said to lay with Tevinter men for profit and was one of the most avid preachers of Andraste after she was killed. The people who she fought for were common folks, not bored spare princes. You'd be best to remember that, pretty boy. Merrill...well, you're just doing fine, kitten. You be you. Varric, Hawke, continue being good and I won't yell at you either. Okay now. Shall we get a move on?"
The party stared at Isabela as she picked up her bag and gestured to the trail. The others grabbed their gear and walked forward quietly, all muttering their apologies. Isabela stood, waiting, until she and Hawke were the last two. They started walking a few paces behind the others.
Isabela put her arm around her. "Doing all right, sweetheart?"
Hawke blushed. "Yeah, just fine."
Isabela squeezed her and kissed her cheek. "Good. Now excuse me while I run ahead and make sure Fenris doesn't break his toes in another trap."
Hawke smiled, touching her now blushing cheek. "Okay."
Varric shot her a grin but said nothing else as Isabela skipped to the head of the group, making sure to yank Aveline's ponytail on the way up.