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"I think Isabela has feelings for you."
Marian's hand froze in place where it had been idly stroking Merrill's shoulder. Merrill was nestled against her, thin fingertips tracing invisible designs along Marian's bare stomach.
"Isabela doesn't do feelings," Marian replied, cursing the bitter edge she wasn't quite able to conceal. She had Merrill, now; there was nothing to be bitter about. She squeezed Merrill's shoulder gently, as though to remind herself of that fact.
"Oh, I know that's what she says, but I don't really believe her." Merrill's voice was impossibly casual, as though she were talking about some interesting flower she'd seen in the Viscount's garden or something. Her fingers stilled, palm flattening against Marian's stomach, and she tilted her head up to meet Marian's uneasy gaze. "She watches you, you know. When we're out fighting, or just drinking at the Hanged Man. Sometimes she gets this look on her face like someone just told her that her dog ran away. If she had a dog. Maybe a parrot, or a monkey--"
Marian cupped the elf's cheek, leaning in to cut her off with a quick kiss. "Merrill. Where is this coming from?"
"We were talking earlier, when we were all coming back from fighting those raiders on the Wounded Coast."
"I remember." Marian had tried not to listen, but it was hard to ignore a conversation taking place within ten feet of her, that was about her.
"She said she was happy for me, that I had you," Merrill continued. "But she seemed so sad when she said it, like she wanted you to be hers instead."
Marian swallowed roughly, beating back the absurd hope that Merrill's words sparked in her chest. "Love, it doesn't matter what Isabela wants," she said with a conviction that she wanted desperately to feel. Why was Merrill bringing this up? "I'm with you, and I'd be a fool to let you slip away just to chase after a woman who can't make up her mind."
"I'm not worried, emma lath." Merrill smiled. "Well, okay, a little bit worried, but no more than I ever am. You're so beautiful and kind and strong, and I still don't know what you see in me--"
"Merrill."
"Yes, I know, we've gone over that before." Merrill propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at Marian, an earnest look shining in her green eyes. "What I was trying to say, though, was that I wouldn't mind, if you wanted to be with her too. I would never make you choose."
Something tightened in Marian's chest--a spark of hope that was quickly strangled by cold, hard truth. "I've already chosen. What Isabela and I had, what happened between us...it was just sex. She made that abundantly clear." She didn't mean to sound so despondent about it, really. She was happy with Merrill; she loved her. Whatever may or may not have been with Isabela was in the past.
"And if she had said she wanted more, I would never have had a chance with you at all," Merrill pointed out gently. "If you think I don't know that, you've got a lot to learn about me."
Marian wanted to argue, but the simple fact was she couldn't. She'd only ended up going after Merrill because she'd been heartbroken over Isabela's brush-off; that it had turned into the best thing that ever happened to her didn't change how it started out.
"By the Creators, you humans get hung up on the strangest things," Merrill said, exasperated. She reached up to cradle Marian's cheek, smiling reassuringly. "Marian, I may question your love for me, but I've never doubted it. Loving me doesn't mean you can't love her."
It was more than Marian would ever have dreamed to ask for. What Merrill was suggesting would be nothing short of perfect--if it were even possible. Just thinking about it, though, considering it as a serious option, was dredging up all of the old insecurities, and reminding her why she tried to move on from Isabela in the first place. As much as she might want Isabela's love, it was never going to happen; even if Isabela did have those sorts of feelings, she would never allow herself to admit it.
"Oh, now I've made you cry," Merrill said worriedly, thumb brushing at the moisture that had gathered under Marian's eyes. "This wasn't supposed to make you sad."
"It's not you, Merrill," Marian said with a bittersweet smile. She reached up to trace the faint lines of vallaslin on Merrill's face, a path her fingers knew by heart now. "You're amazing. It's just...I don't think there's much point in talking about this. Isabela isn't interested in love."
Merrill leaned down to brush a feather-light kiss against the tip of Marian's nose, causing Marian's smile to brighten. "Well, maybe that's true and maybe it's not. How do you know if you never ask?"
~~~
Isabela's room was at the end of the hall on the Hanged Man's second floor; the closed door mocked Marian where she stood at the top of the stairs. She stared at it warily for a long moment before turning back to Merrill.
"I don't think I can do this," Marian said, her voice shaking as her stomach worked itself into increasingly complicated knots.
Merrill just smiled, lacing her fingers with Marian's and squeezing gently. "Don't be silly, of course you can." She stepped closer, tugging Marian down into a sweet, reassuring kiss. She reached up with her free hand to cup Marian's cheek as they pulled apart. "You can do anything."
Marian rolled her eyes at the sentiment, but it had the desired effect nonetheless; she could feel her nerves calming, confidence trying valiantly to overcome the insecurity she was always prone to when it came to a certain Rivaini pirate queen.
"Just remember, no matter what happens, you've still got me," Merrill said earnestly, squeezing Marian's hand again. "I'll be down in Varric's suite if you need me."
She may have gotten the boost she needed, but that didn't mean Marian wasn't still nervous. Before Merrill's hand could slip away, Marian clutched it tighter. "Are you sure you don't want to come with me?"
Merrill shook her head. "You know Isabela. If we go in together, she'll think we're ganging up on her and you'll never get a straight answer out of her. You need to work this out between the two of you."
They had talked at length about how to go about this, and this was a point Marian had been forced to concede; Isabela didn't like being cornered. Still, she couldnt stop the flutter of panic in her chest as she felt Merrill's hand drop away from her own, as she watched the elf turn toward the stairs.
"I love you," Marian blurted, stopping Merrill in her tracks.
Merrill turned back, smiled knowingly as she closed the distance she'd just put between them. "I know you do, emma vhenan." Her lips pressed firmly against Marian's, her hands burning into the skin of Marian's jaw. "I love you too," she said, sliding her hands down to push gently at Marian's shoulders. "Now go."
~~~
"It's open."
The nerves that Merrill had managed to soothe with her calm reassurances came raging back in full force when Marian heard Isabela's voice, and only got worse when she opened the door and stepped inside.
Isabela was seated at the small, careworn table in the corner of her room, pen in hand. Her boots were leaned up against the wall; one supple brown thigh was crossed over the other, bare foot swaying idly back and forth. Her hair was loose, falling forward to partially obscure her face as she leaned over to jot something down on the parchment laid out before her. What little armor she usually wore was absent, and there was something soft and almost vulnerable about the sight of her.
Marian almost laughed aloud at the thought. Isabela probably had at least a half dozen daggers hidden on or around her person, and another dozen or so within easy reach. She was anything but defenseless.
"If you just came to stare, I hope you at least brought me a drink," Isabela said, quickly finishing up her scribbling before looking up at her visitor. "Hawke." She set her pen down on the table while her other hand reached up to brush aside the dark hair that had fallen into her face. The sly smile on her lips wavered, ever-so-slightly, before brightening mischievously. "Perfect. I need your help. Tell me honestly, do you see Aveline as more of a strap-on or a riding crop sort of girl?"
"I, uh," Marian fumbled, closing the door behind her and leaning awkwardly back against it. "I can't say I've ever given it much thought," she said finally with an apologetic smile.
"Hmm," Isabela frowned, looking back down at the parchment. "Maybe both. She's got to have a kinky side buried underneath all of that armor and repression."
"I suppose." Marian said, suddenly feeling very hot. Talking about sex with Isabela--even if it did involve one of her best friends whom she thought of more as a sister--was not conducive to thinking clearly.
Isabela must have heard the strain in her voice, because she looked up again, her expression more guarded than before. "Well," she said, leaning casually back in her chair, "if you're not here to help me with my friend-fiction, and you haven't brought me a drink, what exactly is it that I can do for you?"
Mere months ago, the question would have been dripping with sexual innuendo, practically a proposition in itself--like almost anything Isabela ever said to her. Now, it was asked with a wary, careful sort of aloofness. Marian was sure that if her own pulse would stop pounding in her ears, she would be able to hear the racing of Isabela's own. It was a strange thing--intoxicating, almost--to know that she had managed to throw Isabela off-balance with her mere presence.
"We haven't talked much lately," Marian began, trying desperately to remember how she'd planned this all out in her head. She was certain that her attempt at sounding casual was failing miserably--she was too careful, too deliberate with her words. "Not since Merrill moved in to the estate. It occurred to me that I hadn't really bothered to ask how you felt about it."
Isabela crossed her arms over her ribs, honey-brown eyes narrowing but never quite meeting Marian's own. "Why should I have any sort of feelings about it at all?"
The knots in Marian's stomach tightened and took hold in her chest; suddenly breathing was entirely too difficult. She gripped the doorknob tightly in her hand; it would only take a second to escape. Somehow, she found the courage to speak. "Well, you and I..."
"Had fun," Isabela finished for her, a distant look clouding her eyes as her lips curled up at the memory. "That's all it ever was, no matter how good, or how often." Her eyebrows waggled suggestively, the words rolling off of her tongue like honey.
Marian felt her body flush with heat, and cursed herself for responding this way when Isabela was just brushing her off the way she always did. This was a bad idea; she felt like an idiot for ever thinking she could do this. The doorknob was hot in her hand, and she was on the verge of turning it when Isabela spoke again.
"You and Merrill are good for each other," Isabela said softly, any trace of levity gone from her voice. "I'm happy for you both."
This was the dejected look Merrill had been talking about, the wistful, aching glint in Isabela's eyes that she tried so hard to conceal. The clenching in Marian's chest tightened further, and a flutter of hope beat back valiantly against it. Her hand slipped off of the doorknob as she took a couple of tentative steps forward. "So, you never wanted anything more?"
"I-" The refusal that no doubt was coming died on Isabela's lips as her eyes met Marian's for a split-second, panic flashing brightly in the amber depths. Her gaze flitted away and she let out a shaky, frustrated sigh, pushing out of her chair to pace the length of the room. She kept her back carefully turned to Marian as she stared at the wall. "Balls, Hawke, what does it even matter?"
But Marian had seen it, in that brief moment their eyes had connected: the longing, the desire. She could hardly believe it was for her, but it was hard to deny it when everything--Merrill's assurances, Isabela's behavior--pointed in that direction.
"You do." The words fell from Marian's lips before she could stop them, more breathless revelation than smug accusation. The knots in her stomach loosened a bit, melting around the edges, and she stepped forward again, gradually closing the distance between them.
"It doesn't matter what I want." Isabela's voice was hard, her shoulders stiff. "You're with Merrill now." She whirled around just as Marian reached her; the fire in her eyes was tempered with a flash of panic upon realizing she was caught between Marian and the wall. "And if you even think of doing anything to hurt her, I promise you the only thing you'll be getting from me is a hands-on demonstration of why they call me the sharpest blade in Llomerryn."
The pounding of Marian's heart had changed, no longer powered by a sick sense of impending doom but by a giddy sort of anticipation. She smiled a shaky smile as she reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair back behind Isabela's ear. She could feel Isabela's breath quick and hot against her wrist. "What if it wouldn't hurt her?"
Isabela scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Now you're just talking nonsense." She reached up to pull Marian's hand away from her face, turning her body as if to slip out of the trap Marian had caught her in.
It had become an almost unconscious habit, using kisses to cut off Merrill's rambling trains of thought. Marian didn't quite realize she had pulled Isabela in until she felt soft, full lips moving against her own--firmly at first, resisting, but soon melting beneath Marian's soft, insistent kisses.
She remembered this vividly: the taste of whiskey and salt, the smell of spice and sweat, the supple curves of Isabela's body pressing into her. It couldn't be more different from kissing Merrill, with her delicate angles and thin lips and taste of mint, but Marian couldn't say that one was better than the other, only that she couldn't imagine going without either.
A weak sound of protest escaped Isabela's throat, vibrating against Marian's lips as Isabela's hands tightened around Marian's upper arms and shoved. "Go home, Hawke," Isabela said breathlessly, looking everywhere but at Marian. "Merrill's probably waiting for you."
Marian struggled to catch her breath, trying to think over the pounding of her heart. This wasn't working. Isabela wanted her--Marian knew it, had felt it--but she was just too good of a person, too loyal, and no matter what Marian said, she would never do anything to interfere in her friends' happiness. "You're right," Marian said absently as the answer became clear. "I need Merrill."
"That's what I've been trying to--"
She didn't hear the end of Isabela's sentence; she was already out the door and halfway down the hall, her pulse racing as she hurried down the stairs to Varric's suite. She burst into the room, drawing the attention of both its occupants.
"Merrill, I need your help," Marian said with a shaky smile on her lips. Her body was humming with excitement, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, and she was sure it was obvious what she'd just been doing.
There was no jealousy in Merrill's eyes, though, only an exuberant sort of joy. "Of course!" Merrill said, smiling brightly. She rose quickly from her seat, and was halfway across the room before she turned back to Varric. "I'll come by later and you can finish your story, Varric. I'm sorry to run off in the middle."
Varric just chuckled and shook his head, waving her toward Marian and the door. "Go get 'er, Daisy."
~~~
When Marian pushed open the door for the second time, Isabela was seated on the edge of her bed, staring pensively at the bottle of liquor in her hand. "Hawke, I told you--" She paused, eyes widening in surprise when she looked up to see Merrill standing beside Marian. "Kitten, what are you doing here?"
"Helping," Merrill replied with a fond smile, walking over to sit next to Isabela. "Apparently you need an extraordinary amount of convincing to allow yourself to be happy."
Isabela's hand tightened around the bottle. "Wait, you--you knew about this?" Her forehead wrinkled as she glanced quickly at Marian, then back at Merrill in disbelief. "You're okay with it?"
"It was my idea." Merrill reached out to pluck the bottle from Isabela's grasp, setting it on the bedside table and slipping her own hand in its place, lacing her fingers with her friend's. "You're my best friend, Isabela, and Marian is my lover, and I love you both, so much. I want you to be happy."
Marian felt her chest swell with love at Merrill's earnest, simple words. The giddy smile she'd been fighting won out, stretching her lips almost painfully; she didn't mind one bit.
Sighing, Isabela ran her free hand through her hair. Her eyes met Marian's for an instant, just long enough for Marian to see the fragile hope dawning there, before they darted down to her lap. "So, what, we trade off?" She asked flippantly. "You get the even nights, I get the odds?"
"Oh, nothing so formal as that, lethallan," Merrill said with a giggle, squeezing Isabela's hand. She peeked up through her lashes, eyes glittering with mischief. "And it doesn't always have to be so separate either."
Isabela's mouth fell open. "Why Kitten, I'm shocked," she teased, free hand darting to her chest in mock scandal. "Being with Hawke has certainly done wonders for your confidence."
Merrill flushed red to the tips of her ears as Isabela nudged her with her shoulder; Marian took the opportunity to join the conversation. "Like you said, we're good for each other." She walked over to sit on the other side of Isabela, resting her hand on the warm skin of Isabela's thigh. "But you should know, Isabela, this isn't just about sex."
"I couldn't blame you if it was," Isabela said with a lecherous smirk. "I'm very good at it."
It was Marian's turn to flush, less from embarrassment than from the vivid memories Isabela's words recalled. "I can't argue with that," she conceded. "But as incredible as your body is, I'm--we're--asking for more than that."
Isabela loosed a shaky sigh, shoulders sagging as she covered Marian's hand with her own. "I might have known you'd make it all complicated," she said softly. Her hand squeezed Marian's tightly, as though she were drawing strength from the contact. After a moment, she raised her head to meet Marian's gaze. "I do care about you, Hawke--Marian," she corrected, rolling her eyes. Marian had seldom heard Isabela use her first name; there was something incredibly intimate about the way it rolled off of her lips. "You'll have to be patient with me, but I'm...I'm willing to try."
"That's all I could ask for," Marian said, her smile growing impossibly wider. Merrill caught her gaze, nodding pointedly in Isabela's direction, and it was all the push Marian needed. She reached up with the hand not holding Isabela's, guiding Isabela into a kiss. It was slower this time, softer, and in every pass of their lips, Marian could feel the emotions Isabela was trying desperately to contain.
When Isabela pulled away, Marian whimpered softly in protest. Then she saw what had distracted the other woman: Merrill was leaning against Isabela's shoulder, watching with a dreamy smile on her lips.
"Kitten, you are truly amazing."
Marian couldn't argue with that; she leaned into Isabela's other shoulder, smiling broadly at Merrill. "Isn't she, though?"
"Oh, stop," Merrill said, reaching across Isabela to shove gently at Marian's leg. "Just because the two of you wouldn't know an easy answer if it bopped you on the head doesn't make me so special."
Rolling her eyes, Isabela leaned in to place a quick, firm kiss on Merrill's lips. "You really need to learn how to take a compliment."
Marian squeezed Isabela's hand, pressing her lips into Isabela's shoulder. "We've all got things to work on."
Merrill was practically bouncing with happiness and excitement. "And just think how much easier it'll be to work on it all together!"
"Together," Isabela murmured, looking down at her lap. She held Marian's hand on one side, and Merrill's on the other. When she looked back up, gaze alternating between the two of them, a soft smile tugged at her lips. "I could get used to that."
end