Secret Swooper git for i_llbedamned
Title: Years Go By
From: rubberbisquit
To: i_llbedammned
Rating: PG
Words: 2,493
Characters: Alistair, F!Aeducan, Isabela, Zevran, Wynne
Alistair and Isabela have a strange history
The nights were the hardest in Fereldan. Warm blooded Isabela understood what she was getting into when she took the job and sailed so far from home. She just wasn’t expecting the chill of the capital city. On those nights she pulled her cloak tighter, dropped her head and braved the wild wind coming off the docks.
Gusts pulled at her; the whip of snow coated her in white yet she followed her prey. The flap of the black fabric cloaking her in darkness took a dusting as well but it was no matter. With the terrible weather and the two lovebirds curled in together so tightly she was invisible. Just as she liked it.
- - - -
She had caught the glint of dragonskin armor encasing the feminine frame that morning. The sight had been revelational and she’d watched a dwarven woman, agile and fit, crossing the market. The leather was supple and new; a dragon died for her protection and Isabela had frowned at the thought. It would take a crafty person to take down such a beast. It was only a secondary realization that a man followed, wearing armor that glowed in the pale light of a winter’s dawn.
A warrior and a rogue. The two of them were each pulled so tightly in on their thoughts that she could have been doing backflips and remained mere background movement to the pair. She had watched from her spot behind some surly guard captain as they’d paused outside a house. There was a brief conversation and a decision was met when the man stepped forward. While both were wearing helms she could see the man square his shoulders before knocking on the door.
Behind him the woman glanced around covertly before following her companion into the house. They weren’t there long and when they emerged both were free from their head armor. Isabela watched the wind take hold of the woman’s braid and bright red hair fluttered; the vibrant color was enthralling.
The man went to brush the hair back but something the woman was saying stilled his hand. The dwarf was shaking her head and staring ruefully back at the door that had closed crisply behind her.
Isabela was not the best lip reader but she could tell from the woman’s demeanor and the way she held herself so stiffly that something unsettling had happened. The man seemed at a loss and when the dwarf grabbed his hand Isabela could swear she saw the glint of moisture on his face before he fell to his knees and held her tight.
What a strange combination. They held on for a long while as the market began to wake up around them. When the sun finally crested over the tops of the buildings the woman’s hair became flame and the man’s lit up into a golden halo.
Isabela’s first husband had always joked that she would steal anything that was shiny and not nailed down. She supposed that’s what inspired her to trail the pair back to an inn and take up an observation post outside. Waiting and watching. She was familiar with the inn and knew what sort of people frequented it. Desperate people.
She had her hood up over her head, cursing the chill that still managed to creep in, when the pair reappeared much later in the day. The man held his head higher and the woman kept giving him covert glances. They didn’t touch; behind them another rogue, this one male and elven, appeared followed by an old woman mage. The four took off down a back alley and Isabela followed.
The gait of the elf was familiar and she didn’t have to squint hard to know that her was a Crow. Zevran, she remembered. She had never met him, merely observed at a distance many years ago when she’d been on a bender in Antiva City.
Before husbands and the sea’s siren call she’d seen the glowing young elf working over a crowd in a packed tavern. He’d picked six pockets without being noticed before she had realized there was a distinct and intoxicating allure about him. She’d been interested, had made her inquiries, but when she’d turned to find him he had disappeared. She had spent a full two days trying to track him down before giving up. She still wasn’t sure what she’d have done if she’d found him. Shag him. Or rob him blind for the fun of it.
The unlike group of four were set upon almost immediately when they entered one of the worst back alleys in the city. Isabela, still wrapped tight in her black cloak, watched as the warrior man with the golden hair charged into battle full on. The pounding of his armored feet echoed her heartbeat and there was a moment where it was just that steady rhythm and a vicious war cry before the two rogues jumped into the fray behind him. They destroyed the bandits; she couldn’t think of a better word for the short lived fight. The mage, clearly a healer, had little work as the skirmish finished and she followed as the same thing happened twice more.
Who were these people that they would be attacked so openly and so frequently? As she waited for them to leave a house they’d clearly been looking for she wondered. And stamped her feet to keep them warm.
She didn’t have to wait long. The door burst open and she almost jumped in surprise at the suddenness. The alley filled with shouts and worried questioning. Isabela held herself tighter, watching the two from that morning carry a Zevran into the cold winter air. The elf was not conscious and a large amount of blood was soaking his chest piece. Dangling fingertips trailed over the other man’s shoulder, dripping blood until they managed to get him on his back.
She could hear their voices now for the first time. The dwarf sounded so sure of herself as she started stripping off the destroyed armor. The man knelt next to Zevran was panicked; something had gone horribly awry in that house. At least the mage seemed calm as she worked her magic and channeled streams of blue light into the elf.
There was a tensing of the air in that alley and the dwarf stopped all of her movement and held her breath. Isabela held her breath too and when the eyes of Zevran, the Crow, opened everyone gave a sigh of relief. The elf muttered something and a tiny smile crossed his features. It must have been something snarky because the dwarf’s eyes widened before she smacked him on the shoulder. The elf winced. The man leaned back on his heels and reached bloodied hands up to pull off his helmet.
The three on the ground shared a long and meaningful moment between them and Isabela couldn’t help but feel the pull of intrigue call her down to them. She desperately needed to know what their relationship was.
The mage finished up and then drank deeply from a potion. The old woman looked almost as haggard as the other three but had smiled in relief when Zevran pushed up on his elbows then allowed both man and dwarf to pull him up to his feet. He swayed only once; the other two held him up with concern on their faces.
The wind picked up once more and her cloak was caught in the gust. It flapped behind her wildly for a just a fraction of a moment before she pulled it tight back to her body but she knew that she’d been seen. The dwarf’s eyes snapped to her hiding spot and Isabela could swear she’d been set to rights when the other woman let go of Zevran’s shoulder and turned fully. Isabela wasted no time in her flight from the scene; she was seven blocks away, jumping alleys and over roof tops until she was back to the docks and felt safe.
She felt rather foolish for having her cover blown. That hadn’t happened in years. She was far too interested in a group which had no impact on her life whatsoever. She should go back to the Pearl and warm up. A nice bath would be wondrous right then. She should just turn her feet back and head home.
Being curious never gives a person rest, though, and she beat the group back to their inn. Zevran was still being supported but as she watched them carry him to the door to the inn she was surprised to see him handed over to the female mage. The elf and the mage disappeared inside while the rogue and the warrior watched them go.
When the pair walked away this time, Isabela smiled a little when the dwarf slipped her hand into the man’s hand and pulled him close to her.
The docks were quiet and for that Isabela was thankful. When she’d first considered the best route to take, either by the rooftops or in the shadows on the ground, she’d accepted that she might be scrambling up some steep and icy tiles. The only two about were the ones she was following though. She was safely crouched behind a crate when they reached the Pearl and slipped inside.
Interesting indeed. She couldn’t even question the conundrum of a couple entering a brothel together because she’d done it herself more than once. She followed. Of course.
She slipped in unnoticed. There is a scuffle going on and her eyes widen at the violence before she ducked into the coat room. She could hear yells and clangs coming from the main room and when she peeked out through the side door she was somehow not surprised to see the dwarf and her man standing over the unconscious bodies of the White Falcon gang that’d been dogging the Pearl for days. Their leader Cristof, a weasel of a man who’d tried to get into her pants more than once, sneered from his kneeling position on the floor. He was almost eye to eye with the dwarf who backhanded him strongly.
Cristof fell to the side and she kicked him once for good measure before stepping back and allowing the man to climb to his feet and flee. The dwarf watched him go; her next move was rather surprising for she slid up to the bar and hopped onto a stool. She called for ale and Isabel was sure completely smitten right then. The warrior joined his companion and the two started questioning Sanga. Isabela desperately wanted to hear their conversation and she had taken two steps towards the bar when a hand closed around her upper arm and spun her body away from the bar.
She was moments away from slitting a throat, her hand already on the blade, when her first mate’s booming laughter stilled her movement. “I thought for sure you’d run off again Captain. Haven’t seen you since last night!” Casavir’s tone was light, playful, and he dropped his hand as soon as she recognized him.
“Yes, well, I’ve been busy. And keep your voice down, would you. I wouldn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.” She dropped her cloak from her shoulders and draped it over the back of a chair. So much for undercover.
“Where’ve you been? I was just about to launch a full search of the city!”
“Sure, if by full search you mean drinking your way across the seedy bars of Denerim. I told you. I’ve been busy today.” She never judged Casavir for his drinking and he never judged her for making sometimes ill-considered decisions. He enjoyed telling her that one day she’d get in over her head and he wouldn’t be able to pull her back to safe harbor and sometimes she even thought he might have appoint. Not tonight, however. She still had questions that burned for answers.
She could see Casavir flick his gaze over her head and she knew he was drawing connections between the recent sudden fight and her sudden appearance. A smile slowly climbed onto his face and he nodded, once. “If you’re tailing someone I think they might be headed this way.”
She stiffened and resisted the urge to turn around. “Quick, challenge me!”
He had a moment, and only just, to consider her command before she’d pulled her blades and set into him. He was used to this sort of strangeness and dodged three swings before getting his own sword out. He was easily the better swordsman but she was always the faster of the two. They dueled fiercely for less than a minute before she’d knocked his sword out of his hand and pressed her right dagger to his throat. He was still smiling. “I yield.”
Isabela nodded and was almost expecting the clapping coming from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Her dwarf and the man were just out of range, watching raptly. It was the dwarf clapping and the other woman looked enthralled. Isabela wasn’t even fully on her feet before the dwarf came forward and begged for instruction.
Interesting indeed.
- - - -
Isabela always supposed that there was a reason she had come to Denerim. It hadn’t been for a job, not really. She came because she had few other places to go. She was hunted by a few and didn’t have the cash to enlist a full crew. She had been stuck for a long time before she’d seen a couple in the marketplace and began following them.
She had misunderstood their relationship. She’d assumed they were intimate but she’d been surprised when the dwarf had spent good coin to share a bed with one of the Pearl’s shorter men. She’d been equally surprised when soft brown eyes under a golden mop of hair had inquired about her services.
Surprised and pleased beyond imagining. The surprise made her sound almost girlish and later when it had become pleased she’d sounded a hell of a lot more satisfied.
She never really knew which way the wind would blow her but she always knew that it was equally as fickle with the rest of the world too. When she found out that the man with the golden hair had become king she’d had a private party for herself in the comfort of her cabin and had celebrated the end of the war. She’d drank an entire bottle and congratulated herself on bagging soon-to be royalty.
When he’d popped up, in Kirkwall of all places, years and years later she’d seen his blush and thought perhaps she’d push her luck for an encore. The man had changed, hardened around the edges and gained brevity to his tone. His breath still skated across her fevered skin like a fine silk wrap, however, and she was still able to draw that pleasure from him with a single deft hand.
From: rubberbisquit
To: i_llbedammned
Rating: PG
Words: 2,493
Characters: Alistair, F!Aeducan, Isabela, Zevran, Wynne
Alistair and Isabela have a strange history
The nights were the hardest in Fereldan. Warm blooded Isabela understood what she was getting into when she took the job and sailed so far from home. She just wasn’t expecting the chill of the capital city. On those nights she pulled her cloak tighter, dropped her head and braved the wild wind coming off the docks.
Gusts pulled at her; the whip of snow coated her in white yet she followed her prey. The flap of the black fabric cloaking her in darkness took a dusting as well but it was no matter. With the terrible weather and the two lovebirds curled in together so tightly she was invisible. Just as she liked it.
- - - -
She had caught the glint of dragonskin armor encasing the feminine frame that morning. The sight had been revelational and she’d watched a dwarven woman, agile and fit, crossing the market. The leather was supple and new; a dragon died for her protection and Isabela had frowned at the thought. It would take a crafty person to take down such a beast. It was only a secondary realization that a man followed, wearing armor that glowed in the pale light of a winter’s dawn.
A warrior and a rogue. The two of them were each pulled so tightly in on their thoughts that she could have been doing backflips and remained mere background movement to the pair. She had watched from her spot behind some surly guard captain as they’d paused outside a house. There was a brief conversation and a decision was met when the man stepped forward. While both were wearing helms she could see the man square his shoulders before knocking on the door.
Behind him the woman glanced around covertly before following her companion into the house. They weren’t there long and when they emerged both were free from their head armor. Isabela watched the wind take hold of the woman’s braid and bright red hair fluttered; the vibrant color was enthralling.
The man went to brush the hair back but something the woman was saying stilled his hand. The dwarf was shaking her head and staring ruefully back at the door that had closed crisply behind her.
Isabela was not the best lip reader but she could tell from the woman’s demeanor and the way she held herself so stiffly that something unsettling had happened. The man seemed at a loss and when the dwarf grabbed his hand Isabela could swear she saw the glint of moisture on his face before he fell to his knees and held her tight.
What a strange combination. They held on for a long while as the market began to wake up around them. When the sun finally crested over the tops of the buildings the woman’s hair became flame and the man’s lit up into a golden halo.
Isabela’s first husband had always joked that she would steal anything that was shiny and not nailed down. She supposed that’s what inspired her to trail the pair back to an inn and take up an observation post outside. Waiting and watching. She was familiar with the inn and knew what sort of people frequented it. Desperate people.
She had her hood up over her head, cursing the chill that still managed to creep in, when the pair reappeared much later in the day. The man held his head higher and the woman kept giving him covert glances. They didn’t touch; behind them another rogue, this one male and elven, appeared followed by an old woman mage. The four took off down a back alley and Isabela followed.
The gait of the elf was familiar and she didn’t have to squint hard to know that her was a Crow. Zevran, she remembered. She had never met him, merely observed at a distance many years ago when she’d been on a bender in Antiva City.
Before husbands and the sea’s siren call she’d seen the glowing young elf working over a crowd in a packed tavern. He’d picked six pockets without being noticed before she had realized there was a distinct and intoxicating allure about him. She’d been interested, had made her inquiries, but when she’d turned to find him he had disappeared. She had spent a full two days trying to track him down before giving up. She still wasn’t sure what she’d have done if she’d found him. Shag him. Or rob him blind for the fun of it.
The unlike group of four were set upon almost immediately when they entered one of the worst back alleys in the city. Isabela, still wrapped tight in her black cloak, watched as the warrior man with the golden hair charged into battle full on. The pounding of his armored feet echoed her heartbeat and there was a moment where it was just that steady rhythm and a vicious war cry before the two rogues jumped into the fray behind him. They destroyed the bandits; she couldn’t think of a better word for the short lived fight. The mage, clearly a healer, had little work as the skirmish finished and she followed as the same thing happened twice more.
Who were these people that they would be attacked so openly and so frequently? As she waited for them to leave a house they’d clearly been looking for she wondered. And stamped her feet to keep them warm.
She didn’t have to wait long. The door burst open and she almost jumped in surprise at the suddenness. The alley filled with shouts and worried questioning. Isabela held herself tighter, watching the two from that morning carry a Zevran into the cold winter air. The elf was not conscious and a large amount of blood was soaking his chest piece. Dangling fingertips trailed over the other man’s shoulder, dripping blood until they managed to get him on his back.
She could hear their voices now for the first time. The dwarf sounded so sure of herself as she started stripping off the destroyed armor. The man knelt next to Zevran was panicked; something had gone horribly awry in that house. At least the mage seemed calm as she worked her magic and channeled streams of blue light into the elf.
There was a tensing of the air in that alley and the dwarf stopped all of her movement and held her breath. Isabela held her breath too and when the eyes of Zevran, the Crow, opened everyone gave a sigh of relief. The elf muttered something and a tiny smile crossed his features. It must have been something snarky because the dwarf’s eyes widened before she smacked him on the shoulder. The elf winced. The man leaned back on his heels and reached bloodied hands up to pull off his helmet.
The three on the ground shared a long and meaningful moment between them and Isabela couldn’t help but feel the pull of intrigue call her down to them. She desperately needed to know what their relationship was.
The mage finished up and then drank deeply from a potion. The old woman looked almost as haggard as the other three but had smiled in relief when Zevran pushed up on his elbows then allowed both man and dwarf to pull him up to his feet. He swayed only once; the other two held him up with concern on their faces.
The wind picked up once more and her cloak was caught in the gust. It flapped behind her wildly for a just a fraction of a moment before she pulled it tight back to her body but she knew that she’d been seen. The dwarf’s eyes snapped to her hiding spot and Isabela could swear she’d been set to rights when the other woman let go of Zevran’s shoulder and turned fully. Isabela wasted no time in her flight from the scene; she was seven blocks away, jumping alleys and over roof tops until she was back to the docks and felt safe.
She felt rather foolish for having her cover blown. That hadn’t happened in years. She was far too interested in a group which had no impact on her life whatsoever. She should go back to the Pearl and warm up. A nice bath would be wondrous right then. She should just turn her feet back and head home.
Being curious never gives a person rest, though, and she beat the group back to their inn. Zevran was still being supported but as she watched them carry him to the door to the inn she was surprised to see him handed over to the female mage. The elf and the mage disappeared inside while the rogue and the warrior watched them go.
When the pair walked away this time, Isabela smiled a little when the dwarf slipped her hand into the man’s hand and pulled him close to her.
The docks were quiet and for that Isabela was thankful. When she’d first considered the best route to take, either by the rooftops or in the shadows on the ground, she’d accepted that she might be scrambling up some steep and icy tiles. The only two about were the ones she was following though. She was safely crouched behind a crate when they reached the Pearl and slipped inside.
Interesting indeed. She couldn’t even question the conundrum of a couple entering a brothel together because she’d done it herself more than once. She followed. Of course.
She slipped in unnoticed. There is a scuffle going on and her eyes widen at the violence before she ducked into the coat room. She could hear yells and clangs coming from the main room and when she peeked out through the side door she was somehow not surprised to see the dwarf and her man standing over the unconscious bodies of the White Falcon gang that’d been dogging the Pearl for days. Their leader Cristof, a weasel of a man who’d tried to get into her pants more than once, sneered from his kneeling position on the floor. He was almost eye to eye with the dwarf who backhanded him strongly.
Cristof fell to the side and she kicked him once for good measure before stepping back and allowing the man to climb to his feet and flee. The dwarf watched him go; her next move was rather surprising for she slid up to the bar and hopped onto a stool. She called for ale and Isabel was sure completely smitten right then. The warrior joined his companion and the two started questioning Sanga. Isabela desperately wanted to hear their conversation and she had taken two steps towards the bar when a hand closed around her upper arm and spun her body away from the bar.
She was moments away from slitting a throat, her hand already on the blade, when her first mate’s booming laughter stilled her movement. “I thought for sure you’d run off again Captain. Haven’t seen you since last night!” Casavir’s tone was light, playful, and he dropped his hand as soon as she recognized him.
“Yes, well, I’ve been busy. And keep your voice down, would you. I wouldn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.” She dropped her cloak from her shoulders and draped it over the back of a chair. So much for undercover.
“Where’ve you been? I was just about to launch a full search of the city!”
“Sure, if by full search you mean drinking your way across the seedy bars of Denerim. I told you. I’ve been busy today.” She never judged Casavir for his drinking and he never judged her for making sometimes ill-considered decisions. He enjoyed telling her that one day she’d get in over her head and he wouldn’t be able to pull her back to safe harbor and sometimes she even thought he might have appoint. Not tonight, however. She still had questions that burned for answers.
She could see Casavir flick his gaze over her head and she knew he was drawing connections between the recent sudden fight and her sudden appearance. A smile slowly climbed onto his face and he nodded, once. “If you’re tailing someone I think they might be headed this way.”
She stiffened and resisted the urge to turn around. “Quick, challenge me!”
He had a moment, and only just, to consider her command before she’d pulled her blades and set into him. He was used to this sort of strangeness and dodged three swings before getting his own sword out. He was easily the better swordsman but she was always the faster of the two. They dueled fiercely for less than a minute before she’d knocked his sword out of his hand and pressed her right dagger to his throat. He was still smiling. “I yield.”
Isabela nodded and was almost expecting the clapping coming from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Her dwarf and the man were just out of range, watching raptly. It was the dwarf clapping and the other woman looked enthralled. Isabela wasn’t even fully on her feet before the dwarf came forward and begged for instruction.
Interesting indeed.
- - - -
Isabela always supposed that there was a reason she had come to Denerim. It hadn’t been for a job, not really. She came because she had few other places to go. She was hunted by a few and didn’t have the cash to enlist a full crew. She had been stuck for a long time before she’d seen a couple in the marketplace and began following them.
She had misunderstood their relationship. She’d assumed they were intimate but she’d been surprised when the dwarf had spent good coin to share a bed with one of the Pearl’s shorter men. She’d been equally surprised when soft brown eyes under a golden mop of hair had inquired about her services.
Surprised and pleased beyond imagining. The surprise made her sound almost girlish and later when it had become pleased she’d sounded a hell of a lot more satisfied.
She never really knew which way the wind would blow her but she always knew that it was equally as fickle with the rest of the world too. When she found out that the man with the golden hair had become king she’d had a private party for herself in the comfort of her cabin and had celebrated the end of the war. She’d drank an entire bottle and congratulated herself on bagging soon-to be royalty.
When he’d popped up, in Kirkwall of all places, years and years later she’d seen his blush and thought perhaps she’d push her luck for an encore. The man had changed, hardened around the edges and gained brevity to his tone. His breath still skated across her fevered skin like a fine silk wrap, however, and she was still able to draw that pleasure from him with a single deft hand.