For the Taking, Chapter 3
Apr. 1st, 2011 12:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bamftastikTitle: For the Taking, Chapter 3
Characters: Isabela/Fenris
Rating: NSFW
Words: 1,100
Summary: After the events of Act 2, Fenris takes issue with Isabela's actions.
"The Ghost of Hightown," they called him. For years a pale specter had haunted the abandoned places, walking shadowed streets that belonged only to the unsavory and the unwary. But with each report the Guardsmen found nothing and the tax collector's purses always came away empty. Even the Captain of the Guard herself had declared the tales no more than rumor.
He would have to thank Aveline for that.
After so long, the complaints had all but stopped. It was not acceptance – no, never that – but perhaps it was the best that he could hope for.
Yet, he was not alone in the square tonight. A figure crossed in the opposite direction, the Comtess de Launcet unless he missed his guess. And by the swaying of her steps, the good Comtess was even more drunk than usual. Passing close, Fenris lowered his hood and offered a shallow bow. The woman yelped in wide-eyed terror, scurrying off to regale her husband with tales of fearful spirits.
He watched her go, chuckling quietly to himself. But as he approached his door, he stopped. It was ajar, cracked to reveal a flickering light within. Someone had lay a fire in one of the lower rooms, rooms that even he did not use. Slipping his blade from his back, Fenris felt the warning pain flare behind his skin.
He could summon Hawke, ask for her help once more. A scowl tugged at his lips, not for the shame of the thought – he was not so big a fool as that – but for the impatience. If Danarius had come for him at last, let them end it quickly.
Slowly he shouldered aside the door, stepping softly into the darkened foyer. The light spilled from the library, no doubt Danarius' idea of a jest. Fenris smirked. Perhaps he could spare a moment's delay, pull a tome from the shelf and recite a poem for his former master before ripping the heart from his chest.
With a growl, he kicked the door wide. But he found himself facing only a high-backed chair, turned away toward the fire. As he watched, a long boot propped itself upon the table, crossed a moment later by its mate.
"Huh." Letting the tip of his blade sink to the carpet, Fenris snorted.
"Don't mind me." Isabela did not look up as he stepped round. She licked a finger, turning a page in her book and continuing to read.
"What are you doing here?"
"The Esaam Atashi. Do you know it? It has pictures."
Fenris growled, but she turned the book and held it toward him, revealing a detailed drawing of two Qunari locked in a rather compromising grapple. He smirked.
"Right. Of course you do." Tilting her head, she smiled up at him. "For such a stodgy people, you wouldn't expect the Qunari to come up with something so impossibly imaginative."
"Complicated. Not impossible."
Letting her feet fall to the floor, Isabela rose to meet him, running a hand along the lines of his breastplate. But he only plucked the book from beneath her arm, tossing it onto the table.
"Another Qunari book that does not belong to you."
"Ooh, touchy."
"I do not suffer thieves." He turned from her, striding away across the room.
"I made no secret of it. And you didn't seem to mind before."
Fenris glanced over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. "Betrayers, then."
For once she fell silent, sitting back on the table to watch him.
"Why did you return?"
"For Hawke."
He turned from the hearth, his face deep in flickering shadow.
"I... wanted to run. I did. But I... owe her. And I figured that getting rid of the Qunari might be worth a reward or two to the viscount. Late viscount. Even so... Hawke has a way of changing things, of making things happen. If anyone can get me a ship again, it's her."
"I do not doubt."
Her tone grew exasperated. "Four years. Four years, Fenris. I've never stayed anywhere for four years. There was the Siren, of course, but I was never one for port. If the scenery bored, I just kept sailing. If I tired of the company, I could simply hire a fresh crew." Her eyes darted round, looking anywhere but at him. "But… I've built a life here."
"I..." He hung his head, watching her from beneath his brows. "I understand."
"And you have to admit, it was quite an entrance."
With a quiet chuckle, he closed the gap between them, pressing her back against the table as he slipped a hand beneath her skirt. "Was it?"
"Mm?" She sighed as his free hand trailed the length of her thigh, gently pushing her knee aside. "Maybe not as good as some."
He breathed into her hair, brushing the whisper down and toward her lips. But Isabela locked her legs hard round his waist, toppling them back across the tabletop, scattering pages and dust. He rose above her, sliding his knees up onto the wood to recover his balance, but she jammed a palm into his chest, rolling them over. Fenris landed hand on his back, shifting awkwardly to pull a tome from beneath his shoulder with a breathless curse. She was astride him now, making quick work of his belt as he stared up at her.
His fingers twined hard found the tender flesh of her arms, pinching as he pushed and rolled them over again.
It was Isabela's turn to hiss. "Ow. Shit."
Landing above her, he leaned in for a mocking kiss, keeping tantalizing just out of reach.
She laughed. "Fine." Tugging at his waist, she pulled the breastplate up and over his head. Her fingers traced the patters on his chest, watching for the moment when he began to relax. His eyes narrowed, breath escaping in a heavy sigh as he leaned low. Isabela jammed a pair of fingers into the space between his ribs.
Fenris growled and they were tumbling again, the world falling away in a crashing rush. They landed hard, the table above them now, in an awkward tangle on the floor before the fire.
Planting her knees to pin him down, Isabela put her nose to his. "I win."
"You cheat."
"You like it."
She let his hand slip free, laughing as it tangled in her hair and pulled her mouth to his. But soon his grip loosened, his touch sliding over her, slowing, tracing, as though convincing himself that she had truly returned. It lingered last upon her cheek, pushing her back to look down at him.
His eyes narrowed. "I, too, have built a... life here. I did not think it possible."
"Hm." Isabela shook her head. "Well good for us, then."
"Yes... good for us."
Characters: Isabela/Fenris
Rating: NSFW
Words: 1,100
Summary: After the events of Act 2, Fenris takes issue with Isabela's actions.
"The Ghost of Hightown," they called him. For years a pale specter had haunted the abandoned places, walking shadowed streets that belonged only to the unsavory and the unwary. But with each report the Guardsmen found nothing and the tax collector's purses always came away empty. Even the Captain of the Guard herself had declared the tales no more than rumor.
He would have to thank Aveline for that.
After so long, the complaints had all but stopped. It was not acceptance – no, never that – but perhaps it was the best that he could hope for.
Yet, he was not alone in the square tonight. A figure crossed in the opposite direction, the Comtess de Launcet unless he missed his guess. And by the swaying of her steps, the good Comtess was even more drunk than usual. Passing close, Fenris lowered his hood and offered a shallow bow. The woman yelped in wide-eyed terror, scurrying off to regale her husband with tales of fearful spirits.
He watched her go, chuckling quietly to himself. But as he approached his door, he stopped. It was ajar, cracked to reveal a flickering light within. Someone had lay a fire in one of the lower rooms, rooms that even he did not use. Slipping his blade from his back, Fenris felt the warning pain flare behind his skin.
He could summon Hawke, ask for her help once more. A scowl tugged at his lips, not for the shame of the thought – he was not so big a fool as that – but for the impatience. If Danarius had come for him at last, let them end it quickly.
Slowly he shouldered aside the door, stepping softly into the darkened foyer. The light spilled from the library, no doubt Danarius' idea of a jest. Fenris smirked. Perhaps he could spare a moment's delay, pull a tome from the shelf and recite a poem for his former master before ripping the heart from his chest.
With a growl, he kicked the door wide. But he found himself facing only a high-backed chair, turned away toward the fire. As he watched, a long boot propped itself upon the table, crossed a moment later by its mate.
"Huh." Letting the tip of his blade sink to the carpet, Fenris snorted.
"Don't mind me." Isabela did not look up as he stepped round. She licked a finger, turning a page in her book and continuing to read.
"What are you doing here?"
"The Esaam Atashi. Do you know it? It has pictures."
Fenris growled, but she turned the book and held it toward him, revealing a detailed drawing of two Qunari locked in a rather compromising grapple. He smirked.
"Right. Of course you do." Tilting her head, she smiled up at him. "For such a stodgy people, you wouldn't expect the Qunari to come up with something so impossibly imaginative."
"Complicated. Not impossible."
Letting her feet fall to the floor, Isabela rose to meet him, running a hand along the lines of his breastplate. But he only plucked the book from beneath her arm, tossing it onto the table.
"Another Qunari book that does not belong to you."
"Ooh, touchy."
"I do not suffer thieves." He turned from her, striding away across the room.
"I made no secret of it. And you didn't seem to mind before."
Fenris glanced over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. "Betrayers, then."
For once she fell silent, sitting back on the table to watch him.
"Why did you return?"
"For Hawke."
He turned from the hearth, his face deep in flickering shadow.
"I... wanted to run. I did. But I... owe her. And I figured that getting rid of the Qunari might be worth a reward or two to the viscount. Late viscount. Even so... Hawke has a way of changing things, of making things happen. If anyone can get me a ship again, it's her."
"I do not doubt."
Her tone grew exasperated. "Four years. Four years, Fenris. I've never stayed anywhere for four years. There was the Siren, of course, but I was never one for port. If the scenery bored, I just kept sailing. If I tired of the company, I could simply hire a fresh crew." Her eyes darted round, looking anywhere but at him. "But… I've built a life here."
"I..." He hung his head, watching her from beneath his brows. "I understand."
"And you have to admit, it was quite an entrance."
With a quiet chuckle, he closed the gap between them, pressing her back against the table as he slipped a hand beneath her skirt. "Was it?"
"Mm?" She sighed as his free hand trailed the length of her thigh, gently pushing her knee aside. "Maybe not as good as some."
He breathed into her hair, brushing the whisper down and toward her lips. But Isabela locked her legs hard round his waist, toppling them back across the tabletop, scattering pages and dust. He rose above her, sliding his knees up onto the wood to recover his balance, but she jammed a palm into his chest, rolling them over. Fenris landed hand on his back, shifting awkwardly to pull a tome from beneath his shoulder with a breathless curse. She was astride him now, making quick work of his belt as he stared up at her.
His fingers twined hard found the tender flesh of her arms, pinching as he pushed and rolled them over again.
It was Isabela's turn to hiss. "Ow. Shit."
Landing above her, he leaned in for a mocking kiss, keeping tantalizing just out of reach.
She laughed. "Fine." Tugging at his waist, she pulled the breastplate up and over his head. Her fingers traced the patters on his chest, watching for the moment when he began to relax. His eyes narrowed, breath escaping in a heavy sigh as he leaned low. Isabela jammed a pair of fingers into the space between his ribs.
Fenris growled and they were tumbling again, the world falling away in a crashing rush. They landed hard, the table above them now, in an awkward tangle on the floor before the fire.
Planting her knees to pin him down, Isabela put her nose to his. "I win."
"You cheat."
"You like it."
She let his hand slip free, laughing as it tangled in her hair and pulled her mouth to his. But soon his grip loosened, his touch sliding over her, slowing, tracing, as though convincing himself that she had truly returned. It lingered last upon her cheek, pushing her back to look down at him.
His eyes narrowed. "I, too, have built a... life here. I did not think it possible."
"Hm." Isabela shook her head. "Well good for us, then."
"Yes... good for us."
