Chapter Text
Marian sat on her bed staring adamantly at the wall of her room. She was lost in her grief and at first didn't hear Isabela walk in. She didn't look up until the pirate spoke.
"I," Isabela started shakily. "I feel I should say something."
Marian knew she was trying. And honestly, it meant a lot. "I know you're not good at emotional stuff," she offered, trying to give Isabela an out if she wanted it.
To the pirate's credit, she instead walked further into the room closer to Hawke. "At least your mother loved you. Not everyone can say that," she tried to say as gently as she knew how.
Hawke's eyes clouded over as she remembered what had happened to Leandra. "I have to hold on to my memories of who she was...not that thing Quentin made of her."
Isabela wordlessly sank onto the bed next to Hawke. "And just think, you stopped him," Isabela said, trying to find the words that would help. "Quentin's never going to hurt anyone ever again. I think no matter what, she'd be proud of you." There was nothing more she could think to say so she settled for slipping her hand on to Hawke's knee.
It was this simplest of gestures, but it was all it took to pushed Hawke over the edge, tears finally flowing as a string of vicious sobs tore from the warrior's body. "Maker," she whimpered. "I can't get that image out of my head. When she turned around and I saw her - her face...oh, Maker," she trailed off as another sob escaped her.
Cautiously, nervously, Isabela moved her hand from Hawke's knee up to her back, working it up and down to sooth the sobs out as if they were wrinkles and her hand an iron. "Time will heal you," she said awkwardly.
Hawke viciously shook her head. "Not this wound. These," she said as she referenced the numerous scrapes and bruises on her exposed arms, "yes. But not - Maker, you didn't see her, Isabela. Didn't see what he did to her."
Hawke finally looked up from the ground, her tear streaked cheeks and broken expression stirred an emotion in Isabela that was not entirely welcome, yet the swashbuckler did not push it away. "Why?" was all she said in response.
"Why, what?" Hawke asked, perplexed.
"Why didn't you take me with you?" Isabela tried her best to keep the hurt from her voice.
Hawke's gaze returned to the floor. "I...couldn't."
"Don't be ridiculous," Isabela pressed. "Of course you could."
"No. I mean...I couldn't risk it."
Whatever response Isabela had waiting on her tongue died there.
"Couldn't risk you," Hawke clarified.
"What?" Now it was Isabela's turn to blink in confusion.
Hawke took a deep breath, bringing her head up again to meet Isabela's gaze. "My father died three years before we came to Kirkwall. My brother died as we were fleeing Ferelden. I lost Bethany to the Wardens. And I knew, as soon as I'd heard Mother received lilies," she swallowed another sob, "I knew that I'd lost her too." Hawke's voice wavered and she paused before continuing. "I just couldn't - can't lose you too, Isabela. I can't. It would break me."
For a moment, Isabela looked as if she had a sharp retort on the way, but the next moment, her face had softened again, and she simply shook her head, drawing Hawke into a cradling embrace, and holding the warrior as another string of sobs shook her body.
"It'll take more than a crazed blood mage for you to be rid of me," Isabela whispered.