A/N: I don't own anything. DA belongs to Bioware.

This is my first DA fic and it's unbetaed. I hope you guys like it because I enjoyed writing it. But I shall not keep you any longer so continue on to the story :]

Hawke shielded her face with her gauntleted arm as Meredith's pure lyrium sword exploded into shards. Meredith's blood curdling screams reaching her ears. Hawke chanced a look from behind her clawed fingers at the Knight Commander. She bore witness to the crazed woman turning into a lyrium statue. Hawke stared in disbelief. She couldn't figure out how such a thing was possible.

Hawke was about to step forward to examine the damage when the Templars circled her and her companions. Hawke stiffened as they closed in around them. Ever since she was a small child first coming into her talents, she reflexive tensed around Templars; always careful not to get her magic discovered. Even though her title had saved her, after several years of running, it had become a natural habit that she could not break.

A woman dressed in Templar recruit armor hurried forward to see what had happened to their Commander. She reached out to touch the solid lyrium form but recoiled when Meredith's lyrium form gave off a spark of raw energy. The templar turned to Cullen and shook her head. There was no way of saving their Knight Commander. Cullen's jaw clenched as he nodded in understanding.

Cullen turned to regard the white haired apostate that was known as the Champion of Kirkwall. The mage responsible for, nearly, single handedly defeating Meredith. He frowned as he looked to the Templars and gave them a nod. He had his duty.

Hawke's body went rigid as four Templars took hold of her. Her silver eyes wide in shock as she stared at Cullen. The templars restrained her hands and threw away the Staff of Violation from her grasp. She was now subdued to the point they could handle her.

Isabela was the first to respond. She moved to free Hawke only, to be restrained by two templars herself. "What do you think you're doing!" Isabela screamed as she watched the templars shackle Hawke with cuffs that prevented her from moving her hands.

Hawke struggled in panic. Her fight or flight response kicked in. Like a wild wolf being collared, the wolf Isabela always teased her of being. She hated being bound because it left her feeling powerless. She hated the feeling of powerlessness. But she eventually stopped thrashing when it finally hit her that it was pointless. The more she fought the more the Templars repressed her magic. She glared up at Cullen with cold anger as the man had the nerve to look apologetic.

"I wish it didn't have to come to this, Hawke," Cullen spoke gently, his tone holding no small amount of sadness. "But it has to be done. You are too powerful to let free. Should you fall prey to a demon, you would wreak havoc that no abomination has before. We cannot let this happen. Not when Thedas is already falling apart."

Isabela thrashed and kicked wildly from where the two Templars restrained her. "How could you do this? After she saved your sorry asses many times over!" She screamed at them, tears pricking her eyes as she looked to Hawke.

Hawke was dragged across the courtyard and turned to face the other Templars and her companions before being shoved to her knees. Hawke couldn't bring herself to look up at her friends, her family, as the Templars holding the chains pulled the shackles taunt. With her arms spread wide, it was harder to fight against her bounds; not when the men restraining her were almost playing tug of war. Hawke could do nothing and she knew it.

"HAWKE!" Isabela screamed, her voice pleading. She fought against the Templars holding her but they were too strong with how fatigued she was from battle.

Hawke looked up into the amber eyes of her lover. Her heart broke at the sight of the pirate queen, terror of the Waking Sea, in tears. Isabela was too strong, too beautiful to cry, and the sight brought tears to Hawke's own eyes. Hawke fought them, but failed when a single tear rolled down her cheek and sad smile pulled her lips.

"Remember what I told you, 'Bela," Hawke told, her eyes never leaving the woman she considered her soul mate and complete equal.

"You can't ask this of me, Hawke!" Isabela cried, her voice heavy with anger and sorrow. "Fight them!"

Hawke shook her head. She knew any attempt with magic would be useless. She was too exhausted and her muscles ached like the never had before. There was no way she could resort to brute strength to free herself from this.

"She can't do anything with her arms bound like that. She's exhausted herself taking down Meredith," Anders spoke up from behind the Rivaini. Isabela turned to find him fighting Justice's control as he was being restrained like the others with a sword to his throat. "Unless she succumbs to a demon, there is nothing she can do."

Isabela glared at the man. This was his fault in the first place. And if she had to do what Hawke wanted her to, she planned to kill the ex-warden herself. She refused to see Hawke be taken down so easily. "NO! You're stronger than they are, Hawke," Isabela shouted, her eyes pleading with her love to fight them. "You have to fight!"

Hawke's eyes softened, apologetic. "Not this time, Love." Her voice cracked along with her heartbreak.

The white haired apostate looked to each one of her friends that had become her dysfunctional family over nearly decade. Aveline's face was strong, as always, but her stoic facade could not stop the tears rolling down her freckled cheeks. Fenris' eyes held deep sorrow as he watched the only mage he ever trusted, his first true friend, about to suffer the fate he had once believed all mages deserved. Merrill, in all her naivety and innocence, was bawling her big, green eyes out; though they didn't always agree, Hawke had always been there for her when she needed someone. Anders had the nerve to look sympathetic after all he had done, after all he had put her through. Part of Hawke now wished she had stuck a dagger in his heart like Sebastian had wanted her to, this was his fault and she hoped the message was clear on her face. And finally her eyes landed on her little brother. Carver was struggling against several Templars as his blue eyes streamed tears. After so many years of rivalry, the death of their mother, a handful of Carta dwarves, and an tainted magister of old had brought them closer than they had ever been in their lives. Each person she held in her company, each of her friends were family, and seeing them like this was too much for Hawke to take.

"I'm sorry," Hawke spoke softly, but her words seemed to echo through the battered courtyard.

"Don't you dare say that!" Carver growled, trying the find a way to get free of his captures. "You can't just let them do this!"

"There's nothing I can do!" Hawke screamed back as she yanked as hard as she could against her restraints. She could barely move. Her companions could see her muscles flexing painfully as she struggled. Hawke let a cry loose of pure frustration, pain, and deep seeded sorrow. Couldn't they see that she tried? Do they think she was willing to go like this?

"You can't leave me, Hawke," Isabela plead. "Not when I just found you. It's not..It's not fair!"

"I'm sorry, Isabela," Hawke spoke with pained eyes. "I love you. Don't ever forget that. I always will...But I need you to do it."

Isabela sobbed and was allowed to fall to her knees. She knew now that no matter how much she screamed, pleaded, and fought...they were going to turn Hawke into a soulless husk. There was nothing they could do to stop them. No matter how much they struggled, they were restrained and outnumbered. If they weren't restrained they could've had a fighting chance but they had been taken by surprise.

Cullen sighed and approached Hawke with three others. They took up the ritual formation around the Champion. Cullen stepped forward and placed the palm of his hand dead center of Hawke's forehead. He began chanting with the others, all using their Templar abilities to repress Hawke's magic to the point Hawke's connection to the fade was snapped.

The moment Cullen's hand pulled away from Hawke, did the apostate scream in agony. White light began pouring from Hawke's being like smoke. The color of Hawke's aura -Hawke's soul- spiraled upwards into a vortex of raw magic power. The whole time, Hawke's screams never ended.

Isabela watched in horror as Hawke's power, Hawke's soul, was torn from her being. Hawke was dying before her eyes. The emotions, the personality, the magic that made Hawke who she was, was disappearing in the snow like smoke pouring from her soul. And Hawke's scream of pure, unrestrained pain was tearing her apart from the inside out.

"LETHE!" Isabela screamed till she started to go hoarse.

Several minutes passed before the light finally faded and the screams stopped. The longest minutes of any of their lives. The Templars released the Champion from the shackles and stepped away. Hawke pushed herself deliberately to her feet. And when she looked up, her companions gave their reactions to the sun brand on her forehead, obscured by the tattoo between her brows. Her expression and eyes completely blank, devoid of emotion...devoid of life.

"No!" Isabela shouted in fury. She broke free of the slackened grip of the Templars and ran to Hawke. Cullen stepped aside to let her pass. Hawke simply stared at her as the pirate cupped her cheeks. "No, no, no, no...Hawke." Isabela cried softly. She stroked the apostate's cheek, looking for a reaction; anything that would prove that the ritual didn't work, that Hawke was strong enough not to be turned tranquil. But there was nothing. The Templars had succeeded. Isabela buried her face into the fur collar of Hawke's mantle with a sob. Hawke was gone and all that was left was this living shell that held her face.

The tranquil merely stood there, giving no physical response. "Isabela, why are you crying?" It asked, monotone and flat. And to Isabela's ears, absolutely painful to listen to.

Isabela pulled back and looked into dull silver eyes. Tears continuing to stream down her face. With her right hand, she reached behind Hawke and pulled free the mage's beloved knife from its hiding place. Isabela brushed left hand across her lover's cheek. "I'm sorry, Lethe," She whispered as she drove the blade into Hawke. The tranquil gasped in pain as Isabela slowly brought her down to her knees, cradling the woman she loved. Isabela kissed Hawke's temple before finally whispering words she had tried for so long to flee from. "I love you, Lethe. I love you...and I regret never telling you." Isabela cried as she looked into silver eyes and combed her fingers through the short white locks of the Champion.

Hawke looked up at Isabela, her brows furrowed in pain and confusion. Her world was flooding back as she felt her life fading, as her life force began to return to the fade. She reached up and cupped Isabela's cheek, a smile on her lips. "About time," Hawke husked.

Isabela's eyes widened in shock. "You're you-but how?"

Hawke pressed a finger to Isabela's lips. "Shh...I don't...have much time," Hawke spoke through troubled breath. "Thank you, Isabela." Sincere thanks in her expression and love in her eyes. It wasn't just a thank you for the promise Isabela kept but a thank you for every moment they shared together in life.

Isabela crashed her lips against Hawke's for the last time. She felt impossible amounts of sorrow as Hawke kissed her back, quickly fading away. Isabela pulled away and stared into sparkling silver eyes she fell in love with. "I love you, Lethe. You're the only one capable of stealing this heart of gold and you will always have it."

Hawke smiled, her mouth opened to speak when the last bit of her life slipped through her grasp. Her eyes became dull, lifeless, and her body fell limp, her head falling forward to rest one last time on Isabela's shoulder.

Isabela sobbed as she clutched onto Hawke's lifeless body. She cradled the apostate to her as she prayed to the Maker and Andraste, to the Creators, even the dwarven Ancestors that Hawke would find peace. She even prayed to join Hawke again soon in death.

When the pirate felt gauntleted hands try to pry her away, she only clung harder to the cold body of her soul mate. It wasn't until Varric, Fenris, and Aveline tried, that Isabela finally relinquished her hold on Hawke. Carver picked the tanned woman up and pulled her to him, so they could cry together in their loss. Isabela only pulled away for a moment to pull Merrill into the embrace, the poor girl was still bawling her green eyes out. The Dalish elf needed just as much comfort as she did.

Carver, Fenris, Aveline, and Donnic picked up the corpse of the Champion of Kirkwall onto their shoulders. They carried Hawke through Kirkwall with Varric, Merrill, Hawke's faithful hound Dvorak, and Isabela following behind them. The Templars didn't dare stand in their way this time, after seeing Isabela slit Ander's throat and had nearly gone after the Knight Captain but was restrained by the guard captain. They were Hawke's companions who had fought hundreds of battles with her, the Templars had the odds against them with their small number unrestrained.

The group carried Hawke all the way back to Hightown. Every person who saw the procession followed to mourn the loss of their Champion. The smiths and carpenters that were able, built a platform for a funeral pyre in the view of the Keep where Hawke had earned her title, and not far from the Hawke estate. And it wasn't until well into the night that it was finished. They wanted their hero's send off to be perfect. When the dried straw matting was finished, Hawke was placed upon the platform.

Isabela looked down at the apostate who had so easily stolen her heart, her tears had long since dried up. She brushed stray strand of white hair from Hawke's forehead. She lovingly traced Hawke's features one last time, burning them into her memory. She continued until her eyes came to rest on the blade still planted in her love. The blade that she put there to fulfill the promise she had made Hawke before all hell broke loose.

Hawke leaned against the railing of the upper floor of the foyer. She swirled the goblet of wine in her hand before taking the bottle from the railing beside her and filling her glass a bit more. After she drank a generous amount from the glass, she heard a chuckle from behind her. She glanced down, over her shoulder at her 'guest', not that she needed to. She knew that chuckle, and who it belonged to, all too well.

"I thought you didn't drink that much, afraid of losing control of yourself," Isabela teased as she sauntered up the stairs to Hawke.

Hawke chuckled with a half smile. "With all the crap I've been through, I'm not too worried at the moment."

Isabela smiled as she greeted her lover with a kiss. She wrapped her arms around the taller woman's neck as she pressed flush against her. When she pulled away, a soft smile played her lips. The smile that was only reserved for Hawke and Hawke alone.

Isabela then proceeded to comb her fingers through Hawke's snow white locks. It was an obsession that trumped Varric's chest hair after she ran her fingers through it the first time. Though she would never tell Varric or Hawke such.

"Why have I never asked how you got white hair?" Isabela asked curiously as she tugged gently on strands between her fingers.

Hawke's usually hard silver eyes were soft with affection and contentment. Hawke brought her free hand up and twirl a lock of raven hair around her finger. She loved having the woman this close after so many years of desiring the pirate to be hers.

"You have," Hawke smirked. "But after not telling you repeatedly, you gave up."

Isabela grinned. "Are you finally going to tell me?"

Hawke shrugged with a thoughtful look. "Have you been behaving?"

Isabela scoffed with a raised eyebrow. "Has Aveline come bitching to you yet?" Isabela asked, a smirk pulling her lips. Hawke shook her head, amused. "Yes, I've been behaving...for the most part."

"Then I guess I'll tell you." Hawke smiled softly and set down her goblet. "It happened because of a freak accident," Hawke told, but made no move to continue.

Isabela quirked a brow in disbelief. "That's it?" Isabela huffed. "No details?"

Hawke laughed, earning herself a swat from the rogue when Isabela figured out she was just playing with her. "I couldn't resist. The look on your face was worth it."

"Oh haha. Now tell me...please?" Isabela asked softly as she ran her fingers through silky snow once more. She never tired of touching Hawke's hair and Hawke never seemed to mind her obsession with it.

"It was the day my little sister, Bethany, discovered her 'talent'," Hawke began, she rested her hands on the pirate's waist. "I was at the creek washing clothes while Carver was taunting Bethany behind me. She was so furious that her magic responded with a spell to match her icy contempt. But it missed Carver and hit me instead. Right in the back of the head."

"Sounds like something your pig headed brother would do," Isabela commented with a light laugh.

Hawke nodded in agreement. "No kidding. I blamed him for it ever since. The spell froze my scalp so badly that my hair broke off." Hawke chuckled. "Luckily my father had been coming to check on us and was quick to heal the damage. But when my hair finally grew back, it was white instead of black like the rest of the family."

"Explains why the carpet doesn't match the drapes," Isabela teased in a sultry tone.

Hawke prodded the pirate in the sides. "Keep that up and your carpet will no longer match your drapes," Hawke threatened playfully.

Isabela shot an eyebrow up. "Like you tried that one time with an ice spell?"

Hawke smirked. "I wasn't trying for that and you know it."

"Oh I know," Isabela chuckled breathlessly, "I was hoarse for two days after screaming so loud."

"Want to try it again?" Hawke asked, her voice husky with desire. Hawke smirked when she felt a shiver run through the pirate.

"You nearly killed me last time," Isabela groaned, the memory was making her hot and bothered.

"It would've been one helluva way to go," Hawke laughed. "Imagine what your eulogy would say."

Isabela laughed whole heartedly. "'She died doing what she loved: screaming to the Maker in pure ecstasy with the Champion of Kirkwall between her thighs.'" Isabela told with theatrics.

Hawke laughed harder. "Aveline would have to arrest me on a charge for murder."

"You kidding? She would slap ya on the back and say 'good work'," Isabela retorted, still laughing.

Isabela reveled in these rare moments Hawke laughed. Hawke was naturally an introverted person. It came with living as an apostate on the run all her life. And in these moment, Isabela saw real beauty in life that made her heart soar.

The laughter took several minutes to finally die down. Hawke held the pirate with a small smile. Isabela was one of scant few that could make her this relaxed without really trying. Even after everything they'd been through, Hawke still felt most comfortable around the rogue than any of her other friends. Isabela didn't judge her or what she did as harshly as the others.

The Champion hummed in thought.

"What?" Isabela asked, looking up into Hawke's silver eyes.

Hawke offered a slightly bigger smile and she spoke, "My eyes weren't always this color either."

"Really?" Isabela asked, absolutely curious now.

"They used to be blue, like my father's," Hawke told.

Isabela stared at the silver orbs, trying to picture them blue. It was hard since she always loved Hawke's silver eyes. They were uniquely Hawke. "How did they change?" Isabela asked, tracing the tattoo on Hawke's cheek.

"Overdose on lyrium and a botched ice spell," Hawke sighed. "Both my fault... I'd been so fried on lyrium that I couldn't think straight and messed up a simple ice spell. I wish I could remember what happened after but I can't. When I woke up, I was back in Lothering instead out in the middle of nowhere, finding out that a week had passed."

"You overdosed on lyrium," Isabela asked doubtful that Hawke could do such a thing.

"Unintentionally. I had known that more lyrium meant more power. I didn't have time to measure it out because my sister and I were being attacked by a giant bear." Hawke told. " My father had gone off to collect fire wood and had left us alone at camp."

"You did it to protect Bethany?" Isabela asked softly, combing her fingers through white locks in comfort.

"I did. My father had been very worried, but when I finally came to, he was furious for putting us in danger of the Templars," Hawke sighed at the memory. "The lyrium made us a bigger target. My father had to sneak my unconscious hide around the forest until the lyrium worked its way out of my system...Since then, I've done my best to avoid using the stuff unless it's absolutely necessary."

Isabela smirked as she trailed calloused fingers down Hawke's cheek once more. "Well I think your hair and eyes are some of your best features. They're undoubtedly the sexiest I've ever seen."

Hawke's eyes narrowed in amusement.

"Now why don't you show me another one of your tricks," Isabela suggested in a seductive tone. Her fingers slipping under the strings of Hawke's black, sleeveless, cotton tunic's collar.

Hawke cocked a mischievous half smile and scooped the wine bottle from beside her on the railing. She filled her goblet a bit more with a splash of burgundy liquid. Isabela quirked an eyebrow, this kind of trick was not exactly what she was asking for but she was not the less curious. Hawke picked up the goblet with a hand above the rim and held it so the goblet was at mouth level.

Isabela watched as the wine flowed up toward Hawke's palm. As it began shaping into the desired form Hawke wanted, she blew ice until it froze solid. She continued for a few moments more until she finished what she was creating. She removed her hand from above the goblet to reveal a rose made of frozen red wine.

Hawke snapped the stem free from the glass. And with one final icy breath to reinforce the piece, she held it out to the pirate. Isabela stared in awe at what Hawke had done. She hesitantly took the rose from Hawke, afraid that it would shatter if she touched it. When she had it in her hands, Hawke smiled softly as the Rivaini woman admired the piece with a blush barely visible on her tanned cheeks.

Isabela looked up at Hawke with bright, curious eyes. "Where did you learn to do this?" She asked, brushing her fingers over the petals. The rose wasn't melting at her warm touch.

"When I was a child, I would play with water using magic," Hawke told with a found look of remembrance. "I could move it and shape it to my will. It wasn't until I was older that I tried combining the two." Hawke chuckled.

"Will it melt?" Isabela questioned as she kept fingering the petals.

"Eventually," Hawke answered, amused. She held out her hand to Isabela for the rose. "Do you wish to see another trick with it?" Hawke asked.

Isabela reluctantly handed the rose back to the apostate. Hawke took it and placed it back in her goblet. She glanced at Isabela, to make sure she was watching, and touched the tip of the mini sculpture. A brief moment later the ice sculpture fell back into the cup in its original liquid state. Hawke then picked up the goblet and offered it to her lover, who accepted it.

"You're such a romantic at heart, Hawke," Isabela teased as she took a sip of the high quality red wine. "Under that lone wolf like nature of yours." She added with a smirk. Hawke merely smiled her usual half cocked smile as response.

Isabela set the goblet back on the railing beside Hawke. Hawke watched her as she grabbed the apostate by the collar of her tunic. She pulled the Champion into a passionate kiss.

"I want you," Isabela whispered against Hawke's lips. Hawke offered a smirk as the pirate dragged her toward her room. Hawke was in no position to deny her lover.

"Andraste's tits, Hawke, I didn't know you knew how to do that electricity thing too," Isabela croaked, her voice hoarse from screaming to the heavens in ecstasy. She nuzzled into Hawke's neck from where she curled up against the talented woman.

Hawke stroked Isabela's back with a chuckle. "It's an acquired talent."

"Mmm and you do it so much better than that brick in the wall," Isabela laughed. "Shit you probably do anything better than that boring sod."

Hawke hummed. She had turned surprisingly somber at the mention of the spirit possessed apostate.

Isabela pushed herself up to look at Hawke. Her concern apparent in her amber eyes. "Is something wrong, Lethe?"

Hawke met her eyes. She took a moment before finally answering. "I want you to promise me something, 'Bela."

Isabela's brows furrowed. "Promise you what? And if you say my hand in marriage, I will knock you flat out."

Hawke shook her head. "I'm not asking that of you, Isabela. Just hear me out. Please."

Isabela stared at Hawke for a brief moment before nodding. Hawke rarely ever said please. Whatever she had to say was serious.

"You know being an apostate is dangerous." Isabela nodded. "Anything could happen. If..." Hawke trailed off with a sigh before continuing. "If they ever take me and turn me tranquil, Isabela, I want you to kill me, understand? I know this is a bit much but I need you to do it. I would rather die than live my life as an emotionless husk," Hawke explained looking into amber eyes she loved so much.

Isabela looked down at Hawke in disbelief. "Why are you asking this of me?" She questioned, her voice barely a whisper.

"Because I trust you. I know you wouldn't let me suffer like that," Hawke explained, caressing Isabela's sun kissed cheek. "The others would keep me alive. To them it would be better that I was alive than dead. Isabela, becoming tranquil will kill what everyone knows me as. All that will remain is a husk with my name and face. With my connection to fade severed, the real me will no longer exist. It's a fate worse than death, 'Bela, so please...I beg you, if that should ever happen...I need you to kill me. I would rather die a mage than live as a husk." Hawke pleaded with the pirate.

Isabela combed her fingers through Hawke's white locks. Her expression pained but filled with understanding. "I promise, Lethe."

Hawke looked relieved at those words. She pushed herself up and kissed the slightly older woman. The kiss started off as one of thanks. But soon it evolved into one more passionate and desperate. Then boiled over into another bout of sex unlike all the other times before. This was their first time making love. Slow, passionate, and fierce in its own right. And by the end, Isabela had silent tears falling down her cheeks as Hawke whispered three words into her ear as she reached for her peak.

"I love you."

Isabela clung to Hawke as she practically leapt over the edge and into an ecstasy she had never experienced before. She knew she was madly in love with the apostate, no matter how much she had fought it over the years. She hoped that Hawke felt it as she clung to her desperately. It was the only way she could convey her feelings without saying those dreaded words.

When Isabela finally came down from her high, she cuddled against Lethe's side. She rested her head on the white haired woman's shoulder and tucked herself under Hawke's chin. Hawke glanced down at her but said nothing at the odd behavior. Hawke merely wove her fingers through the pirate's raven locks and held the woman close. Isabela sighed in content as she caressed along Hawke's chest, just below the collarbone. Hawke's tense body practically turned limp at the soft caress, Hawke's only weak spot. A simple caress turned the hard apostate into a relaxed and very content puppy.

Isabela smiled as she felt the woman's body relax. It always amazed her that such a simple caress across the woman's sternum could have such a resounding effect on Hawke. She could tell Hawke appreciated it by how content and relaxed she looked after a good chest rub. It was the most relaxed anyone ever saw the stoic apostate. Isabela could even lull Hawke asleep, like she was now, with a short session. And it delighted Isabela to know she was the only one Hawke ever allowed to do it.

Isabela studied the younger woman as she slept. Hawke had been so worked thin before Isabela returned to Kirkwall. Everyone wanted something from the Champion. Hawke had lost what fat she had on her body, her lanky body was nothing but muscle and almost constantly tensed, and Hawke carried near black bags under her eyes. Isabela finally put a foot down and convinced Hawke that she had to start telling people 'no'. Hawke couldn't keep on living looking like the walking dead.

It had been a few weeks since Isabela had stepped further into Hawke's life and the woman was looking, somewhat, healthier now. Hawke still had a bit of trouble gaining the weight back since she was so active, but at least she slept enough to lessen the severity of the darkened skin beneath her eyes. Isabela was thankful that Hawke actually listened to her and began denying people her presence when it was not absolutely necessary.

Gazing down at the tattooed face, Isabela felt her heart swell with that pesky emotion she had tried to run away from for years. Hawke had wormed her way under Isabela's skin and the harder Isabela fought, the deeper Hawke became. What bothered Isabela most about it, was the fact that Hawke wasn't trying. Hawke was merely herself: generally stoic, laid back, indifferent with a hint of humor, wit, sarcasm and mystery that drew Isabela in like a moth to a flame.

Isabela tucked herself further into Hawke's side, fitting perfectly and rested her head on Hawke's chest. She listened to the drumbeat of Hawke's life force and like a natural lullaby, letting it coax her to sleep. Both of them unaware that this was the last night they would spend together in loving peace.

Isabela gripped the knife and carefully removed it from the Champion's corpse. Once free, she slid the blade into her boot. She reached into her blouse and removed two silver coins. She placed one on each eye of her love before placing a final kiss on dead lips. Hawke would part with a piece of Rivain tradition, Chantry be damned.

Isabela brushed Hawke's short hair back before looking to Aveline, who had climbed up onto the platform with the rest of their companions. The Captain of the Guard passed the Pirate Captain a lit torch as they formed a circle around their friend. They all met each other's eyes and in unison, that had come from years of fighting together side by side, they lit Hawke's funeral pyre. They then retreated to a safe distance to watch.

Standing side by side, the longtime companions, friends and family of the Champion gave their last goodbyes. Merrill sang In Uthenera, her voice so soft only her friends could hear. Fenris had his head bowed and was speaking a prayer in a foreign tongue. Varric, Aveline, and Carver also had their heads bowed and quietly singing the hymn of Andraste together. Isabela refused to take her eyes off the pyre as she recited old Rivain funeral hymns, watching the pyre as she sang softly seemed more respectful of Hawke.

People of so many backgrounds brought together by one woman. Hawke had been their binding that kept them together. The binding of one hell of a story. But with Hawke's death their combined story came to an end. With Hawke's death their stories took their own paths. This is where their stories became their own.

Hawke's companions remained until the funeral pyre extinguished itself. They had all sat down side by side, exhausted and weary. Varric had briefly disappeared and returned with a few bottles of fine whiskey from Hawke's cellar. Hawke wouldn't mind them taking what they wanted. And together they drank and shared tales in the Champion's honor. In Lethe Hawke's honor. And none of them would say it, but they could feel Hawke's presence amongst them, laughing alongside them.

When the fire finally died, the six stood up and all looked at each other. This was the end of several years of good times. This was where they parted ways and continued on with their lives like they had before Hawke strode in so many years ago. Carver took Dvorak with him to return to the Wardens. He left Varric and Aveline in care of the Hawke estate since he could not be there to care for it. Fenris retreated to his mansion, not quite sure where to go yet. Aveline and Donnic tiredly headed to the barracks in the keep, hand in hand. Varric retired to his suite in the Hanged Man. Isabela headed for Lowtown with Merrill in tow.

After putting Merrill to bed in her home, Isabela moved to her ship at the docks. She tiredly leaned forward and rested her arms on the railing of the ship's port side. Her mind wasn't ready for sleep just yet but her body strived for it. She knew she couldn't go to bed until her thoughts calmed themselves and straightened out.

The pirate captain looked up at the sky. Dawn was breaking, the only time both the sun and moon still shared the cloudy sky. She closed her eyes and felt a ghost of an embrace around her. The presence was all too familiar to her and one she would miss to the end of her days. Before she could stop herself, Isabela broke into tears one more.

A sea breeze blew past and the presence was gone, only faint words were left in their wake. Three simple words that caressed Isabela's ears just before rain began to fall. An apostate's tears to accompany her last words to her beloved pirate queen.

"I love you."