Isabela was fascinated by Athos. She knew enough of his world and of his people, through Aramis and Porthos. They were two of her favorite people in Atlantis, after all, and she felt like she knew them even more deeply because of their false memories from Breck. He hadn’t come in with a fancy backstory or anything that was more significant than anyone else. In fact, by all accounts, he was the calmest of the three Musketeers, and came off as the least scandalous.
She hadn’t seen him naked, either -- in fact, she’d been very pointedly not as flirtatious as usual. That had started by request, because she loved Aramis and he’d indicated that he hoped she would. After their first evening together, though, Isabela found herself respecting Athos endlessly. And still, she was fascinated by him -- that lack of physicality doubled that fascination. Isabela was a little out of her element, a bit more ‘stripped down’ than usual, some of those flirty bells and whistles that disguised more genuine sides of her falling away. That novelty was intriguing, though.
Wine tasting wasn’t her style, but she’d really enjoyed it. She’d even dressed the part, donning a bit more than her usual scant choices in honor of their plans. (She still didn’t wear enough, by most standards, but one couldn’t expect too much from her. It certainly wasn’t enough for the cold weather.) The tasting over, and a few bottles of wine in purchase, they’d made their way to the dock and out onto a newer boat, one with a cabin to block out the night chill. She was still learning her way around these modern engines, but she had enough knowledge to get them out into open water where they could drift a bit. With the engines off, the music drifted over from the Festival of Lights on shore, the glow making for a nice backdrop to an evening of more wine. She shivered, settling back down from checking the boat dash. “My Rivaini blood will not tolerate this cold weather, I swear to the Maker,” she said, reaching for her glass and more alcohol. “I don’t know how you lot can stand the idea of snow without wanting to just live in a bonfire.”
Instead of responding immediately, Athos gave her a small smile and ducked inside the cabin. When she'd been negotiating the rental fee with the dockmaster (or boat's owner, he wasn't sure, but he did know she had unparalleled skill at getting a good price), he'd explored the boat a bit and had made a few mental notes of what was there and where things were. He'd done a little research on boating after their last outing, mainly so that he wouldn't be an unskilled lump in the event that extra hands might be needed for any particular reason. He reached the cabinet he had been bee-lining to and pulled it open, then pulled out a folded bunch of fabric. His first thought was that maybe they were sailcloth, but no sailcloth could possibly be this colorful or gaudy.
He stepped back onto the deck with the cloth in one hand and using his other to steady himself as he made his way over to her. Whereas she had made an attempt to dress more casual and less flirtatious, he thought she still looked stunning (and knew she knew it). Meanwhile, he had tried to dress a bit more modern as well, though he kept to blacks and greys. Boots, dark jeans, and a nice button-up was enough for him, though he was wearing his leather jerkin over it at the moment to help brace against the cool air. "The alcohol should be helping make you feel warmer," he noted, tilting his head towards the wine in her hand. "For actual warmth, though," he began, shaking out the fabric that he'd brought over.
It was a quilt, likely made by the owner's grandmother or some other sentimental creation. It had a great number of colorful patches and a fleece underside. He was sure it was intended for nights like this, even. With the practiced ease of someone used to capes, he quickly whipped it around Isabela's shoulders and stood back for a second. "You look a regal queen, all you need is a crown." He grinned at the comment, picking up his own glass to join her for a drink.
Isabela watched him with a smile and an expression that was equal parts curious and amused as he elected not to respond, moving into the cabin instead. She didn’t follow, sipping her wine from the chilly deck as she waited. When he returned with the fabric, though, she was immediately pleased -- that smile turned from curious to grateful. “What a hero,” she laughed, reaching for the fabric as it settled around her to pull it closer with her free hand.
“I suspect ‘regal’ is a generous descriptor,” she responded, “but you’re welcome to address me as ‘your majesty’ anyway.” Much warmer now, she sat back on the bench seat on the deck, facing towards the lights still visible from the shore. “Are you ever not a gentleman?”
Athos remained standing and watched as she carefully adjusted the quilt to allow her to sit without yanking it from her shoulders. He knew quite well that if he'd tried the same thing without holding something to balance himself, he'd easily have tripped or stumbled in some fashion. She had just a sure grace on the water. He'd noticed it on the smaller boat, but on something even a little larger, it really was noticeable how natural it was for her. He took a swallow of his wine before she asked her question and nodded his head in response.
"I'm a spiteful ass when I've had too much to drink," he answered, glancing down at his glass as if he wasn't sure if he'd reached that point yet. Probably not. "Or so I've been told." In truth, he'd given up heavy drinking when he'd made peace with himself over past decisions, but there were occasions where he could still get deep in his cups in social situations. "Are you ever not a pirate," he asked. "Your majesty?"
Isabela was aware that he was watching her as she sat. She didn’t mind, of course -- if there was one thing she most certainly was not, it was shy. Still, his attention was a rather lovely thing, and she met it with raised eyebrows and an amused, delighted expression.
“Are you? I love that. At some point, I suppose my mission will have to be to get you drunk enough to let the spiteful ass out, because that sounds like a hell of a good time,” she said, laughing. “And it would be, perhaps, one of the more innocent reasons I could get a person drunk.” At his question, she shrugged a shoulder, offering a bright smile. “Not really. Isabela and piracy are one in the same,” she said. After a moment, she continued. “You know, ‘Isabela’ isn’t my original name. It was, truly, a name given to me to proclaim my piracy, so that statement is actually quite literal.”
He responded with a playful shrug, which told him maybe he had indeed consumed a good deal of wine. Not drunk yet, no. Not yet. "My original name isn't Athos," he noted. "Like you, I adapted to the changes in my life and settled on something to call my own." He wasn't sure, though, that she'd much care for Drunk Athos. He had it on good authority that he was decidedly not fun when his carefully crafted calm was cracked by too much spirit. Or maybe that had changed in him, as well. He hadn't allowed himself to drink that much since things in his life had improved and the load on his heart had lessened.
"What did you want to do with your life," he asked, a sudden curiosity striking. "Before the forced marriage, I mean? Surely, you hadn't always eyed piracy?"
At his response and the shrug that came with it, specifically the playfulness, she was grinning again. She raised her glass to him in a toast. “Clearly, we’ve more in common than we realized.” Years and years of drinking had left Isabela difficult to truly get drunk enough that her personality shifted, but she certainly had consumed enough wine so far to feel warmer and more at ease. (Yes, it was possible for Isabela to feel more at ease than she usually did, believe it or not.)
His question was actually a bit difficult to answer, though, and she gave it a moment’s thought, drinking from her glass as she considered it. “I’d not really thought much about it, if I’m being honest. We lived moment to moment,” she said. “Thedas isn’t as much like this world, with its schooling and occupations. I didn’t know how to fight or anything, so… really, I enjoyed gambling and was a good liar. I may’ve been a performer, or some sort of storyteller.” She shrugged. “My skillset is very specialized, really. I’m a very good pirate, but my skills don’t apply tremendously to other careers.” She nodded to him then. “And what about you, when you were young and staring down the face of becoming a comte?”
"I was comfortable," he noted, with a tinge of sadness. "Perfectly willing to be a liege lord to a wonderful collection of people. See to it that they had good lives, support of their nobles. An idealistic view, I suppose." He smiled a bit at the thought, like an adult remembering childhood hopes. Looking back, he realized that he'd been blind to a number of things, just because of the benefits a life of privilege yielded you. Which is part of what had led to his string of regrets.
"But I don't miss it. I thought I would, after a time, but the bonds and skills I've developed as a Musketeer are things I wouldn't trade for all the world." He glanced around himself and set his sights on the lights coming from the shore. "For all the worlds, even."
“I don’t think it sounds idealistic,” she said. “Granted, I’ve never been a noble-person of any kind, and the majority of my titles have been either self-declared or earned by killing the previous holder. Still, it sounds to me like the sort of belief that I’d want a liege lord -- whatever that actually is -- to have.” She offered an almost playful shrug then, before countering the words: “But I’m glad you became a Musketeer. It suits you, as far as I can tell.”
She smiled as he continued, her head tilting a little, thoughtfully, as she observed him. “You’ve got a romantic way of speaking about things, Athos. Is that a French thing?”
"Could be a combination of a French thing, an education thing, and just an Athos thing," he answered, smirking a bit. It was part of why he'd advanced as he had in the Musketeers, at least. Most recruits were like Porthos, pulled from the streets because they wanted a better life (or someone else wanted it for them), or like Aramis, seeking a different future than what had been put before them. Others were farmhands or peasants wanting a structured life. Very few were nobles wanting to put that life behind them.
"It does suit me, though. I feel like I make a difference, and really, what more could I ask for?" He enjoyed his accomplishments in the King's Musketeers, and the accomplishments of his fellows. While he didn't always feel as if the Musketeers themselves were ever truly appreciated by the King, he did know that the Queen supported them, Treville supported them, and they could easily all support each other without question. Not many people could claim that much.
“There is a whole lot to be said for feeling as though your work has meaning. That is not always the case in my line of work, as you might imagine, but it’s lovely when it does occur.” Isabela was a pirate, after all; much of her work had to do with acquiring gold and treasures, and those were not things she shared with the poor or used in some tremendously generous way. “I’m rather convinced that you and your Musketeers likely would’ve had to hunt me if we lived in the same world, all things considered,” she added, amused at the thought. “I’d’ve been a very challenging catch.”
“May I say that Wine Athos and his confident smirk are both very, very enjoyable, by the way?” she added, eyebrows lifting. ‘Enjoyable’ was a less flirtatious word than she’d have usually used, but the intent was still there. “Not that you aren’t usually, but I can’t tell if this is the alcohol or you getting more comfortable with me. Either way, it’s working for you.”
"You'd be in luck. The King's Navy would be your foes, so you'd be less likely to be captured than if Musketeers were involved," came the response, a bit of humor and pride evident in Athos' voice. "Are you so sure that you'd be a challenging catch, though? I'm sure I could craft a gallant plan that would involve seducing you into being alone on a boat, surrounded by freezing water and no weapon at hand." He spread his hands and dipped his head for a moment, in something of a mockery of a bow, smile still on his face. It was evident he intended this to answer both of her comments.
The wine definitely had something to do with it, but he was also comfortable around her. Or as comfortable as Athos could get, with as tightly wound as he tended to keep himself.
“Darling, I’m immensely lucky, and I’ve never once needed it.” It was a lie, but she said it with a flourish and a grin. When he continued, ending with that mocking bow, her eyebrows raised, a laugh escaping her -- this was the sort of banter that drove Isabela wild. “Mm, or I could feign innocence and seduce you onto a boat, surrounded by water, with no weapon in hand,” she said, and leaned back on the bench, drawing her wine-holding arm over the back of it casually. “I suppose it would depend on which of the two of us is more dangerous, hm?”
Athos briefly tapped his chin, considering her response. "Well, there's always more Musketeers. There's only one Isabela," he noted, putting a bit of emphasis on the bit indicating that she was unique. "If it's a matter of who is more dangerous, I'm afraid you'd have me in spades." Which, while a compliment, he was sure it was also one hundred percent accurate. On stable ground, he was sure he could take her in melee combat, even if she'd been holding back in their sparring sessions. On a boat, or if she decided to make it an unfair fight, he'd likely not even know what hit him.
Luckily, trying to capture or kill each other was not even in the remotest regions of his mind, he'd just learned from his past and that made him calculate things like this almost on reflex. He gestured to the section of the seat that she'd put her arm around. "May I sit?"
“It’s true; I am one of a kind,” she said, preening in the wake of his compliment. The admission made her grin a little brighter. His inward estimations were perfectly correct -- he was certainly better trained than she was. While she was fast, he had more strategy and brute strength. Her method of fighting did rely on tilting the odds in her favor, and she was un-ashamed to acknowledge that. She was a pirate, after all.
“Please do. I was wondering if you were planning to join me, or just continue posing in front of me so that I could subtly ogle you.”
"I'm not sure it was so subtle," he answered, taking the seat next to her. He had been getting a little cold, as standing in the wind coming off the water was a little extra icy. So if there was a chance to share the quilt, he was willing to take the risk of being up close to Isabela. And it was a risk because he knew he was attracted to her, but that also concerned him. He hadn't known her long and got the feeling that she definitely wasn't the type for for commitment and he was anything but.
Once he'd settled in and draped a corner of the quilt over his own shoulder, he glanced in her direction and nodded. "You're welcome to ogle at a closer range, if it pleases you, your Majesty," he added, with the return of the smirk. Why not, he figured, considering that he might wake up as an animal tomorrow at the rate things seemed to unfold in Atlantis.
Isabela shrugged a shoulder. “I sometimes like to pretend I’m subtle, just for kicks.” In truth, Isabela had the same concerns. She really wasn’t the type who believed much in commitment, or in anything other than casual flings. And yet, here she was, very carefully not luring Athos straight into sex. Intrigued as she was by him, and unsettled as she was by the way she was reacting to him and acting around him, she still offered a more knowing smile as he joined her.
At his words, she laughed. “You ought to be careful, Athos. I’m not usually one to restrain myself in the face of temptation,” she said. In spite of her words, though, she only just allowed herself to lean closer to him, their bodies touching. He was warm, and she couldn’t resist. She was, though. She was being good, for Standard Isabela, and that was unusual too. “Tell me something no one knows about you.”
In spite of his caution, Athos couldn't deny that his heartbeat sped up a bit when she had leaned into him. He didn't let it show, though. "In a place where my entire life is on display either in books or video?" he asked, mostly proud of himself for remembering the word 'video' and what it meant. "That'll be difficult." He tapped his chin again, a trait he was both aware he had and unaware how often he did it on a subconscious level. After a few moments of thought and a few more glances at Isabela to see how she reacted to his quiet thought, he thought of something he didn't think would be listed simply because he hadn't discovered it until he'd arrived in Atlantis.
"I sing snippets of Italian opera in the shower," he offered, daring her to laugh at him (though he really wouldn't mind so much, because it amused him to some extent, too). "The benefits of having a place all to myself," he added, knowing that all of his roommates had left Atlantis for some reason or another that he wasn't aware of.
She turned her body a bit, a move that let her look at him more directly (though it did bring them a bit closer). At his question, she nodded. “You know me, I ask the difficult questions.” She certainly was watching him as he thought, and their closeness made the fact that she was watching him feel more acutely intimate than it had when he was standing before her. She didn’t really mind that, though.
His admission made her expression turn equal parts amused and curious, and she was grateful for the fact that her time as Boring Isabela in the modern world meant that she knew what he was talking about. “Do you sound nice?” she asked. “And color me envious of a house to yourself. Though, I do love my roommates. I’d get into a fair amount of trouble in an empty house.”
"I suppose everyone thinks they sound better than they actually do," he confessed, maintaining eye contact with her, noting precisely how close she was at this point. "I have a voice for shouting orders, it translates well to opera." He wasn't sure if that was entirely truthful, of course, but it made enough sense for him to think it was accurate enough.
"An empty house is a lonely house," he noted, speaking a bit more softly, as if having his face this close to hers made it some sort of faux pas to speak higher than a whisper.
“I suppose the best way to find out is to get a second opinion then, hm?” she teased, her expression playful, but the situation itself adding a lot more sultriness to her words than she’d intended. Though, really, at this point, it was a toss-up between what she did and did not intend.
“How lucky you are to be so well-liked by your companions, then. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding house guests,” she said, mimicking his volume because it seemed right. “And, of course, you can always invite your favorite pirate over to keep you company.”
"It seems the first and the last could be accomplished together," he mused, edging ever closer. Then, abruptly he pulled back just enough to briefly furrow his brow and looked down for a second, breaking that eye contact. Before she could react, though, he looked back up and regained that eye contact and letting out a breath. He could feel his gut tightening up a bit, but he pushed on.
"I should tell you, so that there's no confusion later. I'm swept up by you, which I assume is obvious, but I need you to know. I'm not…" he chewed over his words for a moment. "I'm not Aramis. I'm not even Porthos. I can't do casual relationships. I'd say I give myself over too much, but it's likely much more complex than that. If that's an issue, please tell me now, before I allow myself to get hurt." Every word was delivered in the usual Athos stoicism, not some sort of tearful speech you might see in some John Hughes film (he did not know who John Hughes was, anyway). But it was obvious he needed some kind of response.
Isabela found herself drawn closer to him as well, that distance between them rapidly shortening -- and then he pulled away. She drew in a breath, almost a small gasp as he pulled back, making eye contact again when he looked back at her.
Everything he said was information she already knew, both from her interactions with Aramis about him and from her own perception of him. She knew it’d be a sticking point eventually as well, much as she’d tried to keep herself friendly and casual and focused less on seducing him and more on getting to know him. Perhaps that was her mistake: she’d not realized that getting to know him would make her more inclined to be fascinated by him. She was quiet a moment, her other hand appearing from where it’d been in her lap, beneath the blanket, and moving towards his face before changing course and settling lightly against his chest. “I’m taken with you as well, Athos. More than I ever am. It’s unfamiliar to me, in truth,” she began, and it actually pained her to continue, her expression showing as much. “You are a better man than many I’ve known. But… I have never been very good at commitment, and I have hurt those I care about because of it. Aramis had good reason to warn me to be careful with you. I care too much for you and respect you too much to let myself hurt you too.”
He'd, at least on some level, fully expected that answer. Some other part of him had suggested he throw caution to the wind, but the more experienced (and possibly more grounded or realistic) part reminded him that this was why it was important to clear the air before stepping back into something that would revert him back to Self-Pity Athos. He did, however, like the feel of her hand on his chest, so he placed his own hand over hers. With a soft smile, he decided within himself that there was no reason this needed to be some melodramatic situation where he'd plead some case to her and sway her to do something against her nature.
"I don't know that I'm a better man than anyone, but I'm at least good enough that I won't push you towards making personal concessions for my benefit." Athos gestured towards the wine bottle that was still sitting nearby. "And there's no reason we can't still enjoy the wine, the warmth of the quilt, and watching the lights from here."
And Isabela, against her better judgement, liked the feeling of his hand over hers. There was an unfamiliar clench in her chest, and she briefly wondered if it wasn’t worth trying in spite of being convinced that she’d ultimately hurt him in the long run. But that wasn’t responsible, and she really did care too much for him to do that to him. For all of her pride and ego, Isabela knew her shortcomings, or what they’d been in the past. She knew herself too well, and her experience was damning.
“Maker, I wish you would,” she said, breathing a laugh. “But you’re right. We can certainly enjoy the wine, the warmth, and the lights.”