Who: Isabela & Hawke What: Treasure hunting underground, with giant spiders and rock wraiths - oh myyy! When: Tonight Where: Down a crater, into dark spawn free Deep Roads Rating/Warnings: High, for violence and fornicating on a pile of gold (because why wouldn't they) Status: Complete!
Oooh, an adventure! That’s what this was, and Isabela was ever so excited - so excited, in fact, that she’d worn her certified pirate outfit, except with the very important addition of trousers (how her dream self never wore them, that was still a mystery). Leather ones, and granted her corset was straining with want to burst and free her rather impressive bosom but she was ready for action regardless. Different from the kind she might see on a ship rocking and swaying, singing a gentle lullaby to ease the fears and give ease to her passengers. This was an adventure that felt like it’d be deep within the Earth’s very core.
Her daggers, the beautiful Heartbreaker and Backstabber set, were sheathed on her back as she wore them during those life-gamble events in Kirkwall, the slums of Lowtown that smelled like a pretty perfume with notes of sweat, wood smoke, and the delightful addition of ammonia, urine, something that was cloying. Even in Hightown there were nasties that went bump in the night, but the Deep Roads - to which there was an apparently an entrance in a park of all places - were a whole other matter entirely.
Hawke knew the entrance was here, so she’d let him in all his ‘one with the earth’ glory figure out where the best place to crawl to the bowels of Hell was. Meanwhile, Bela busied herself with carving dicks on a tree that hadn’t been crisped to ash yet and trying not to salivate over the thought of that treasure waiting for them.
“Love, are you sure it’s here?” she asked with teasing sarcasm, not looking up from her ‘artwork.’ The sarcasm was because the giant crater in the middle was sort of telling. How had this not ended up on the news, more than once, besides the YouTube videos taken of the first incineration?
It was the perfect opportunity to wear his father’s armor - something light yet protective, with a sort of fabric woven by unique Thedosian thread and leather made from nug skin (he wouldn’t dare let the one that went by Nightingale that). It was an honor to wear it, in tribute to his apostate father. Without him his guidance he and Bethany would have been tossed behind the walls of the Circle, stripped away from their freedom and forced to live by regulations that could suck the Maker’s veiny cock.
It was a lovely veiny cock, he was sure. Andraste, tell him not to smite him, would you?
“The earth’s still soiled by dragon’s blood, it’s here,” he insisted, quirking a thick brow at her direction. What the bloody hell was she - was that a penis? That was a penis carved into a tree. How unsurprising. Hawke would have to go back behind her and scrape ‘Hawke Hearts Bela’ forever under it, as it was the epitome of romance.
Rising from his knees pressed against the dirt, he took a fond glance at his handy work of sealing it with rocks, rocks, more dirt, and more rocks. Alistair’s darkspawn senses would literally tingle if there were any of those damned, blighted things wandering about. They could safely rule that possibility. More dragons? Likely. Golems? Ancient wraiths? Also likely.
That hellish idol that made Bartrand leave them for dead?
The bloodmage would be pleased if that’s one thing they didn’t find.
Time to undo all that he did, though. A bright, somewhat greenish luminescence overwhelmed his hands, and in some fade-fueled telekinetic force, all that rubble and debris and extra layer of earthiness split, revealing a hole that led elsewhere. A darkness they’d explore against all logic and reasoning. Venturing down there wouldn’t be good for their health, not at all!
It was all for the loot. Garrett would freely admit it. He was tired of being bloody poor, alright? Sue the man, he wanted the American dream, too!
Garrett wanted the American dream, and Isabela was a greedy pirate. Simple as that, really. Oh, alright, and perhaps she was supportive of the Hawke part of ‘Hawke Hearts Bela 5ever’ getting himself away from the drudgery of working his dirty fingers to the bone - whatever made him happy, yeah? He wanted to be able to provide for his family, to pay for a bloody expensive American education for the twins (was it even worth all that?), but he also deserved nice things for himself.
But alright, sure, greedy pirate. That was a thing as well.
“Look at that,” she whistled, sticking her dagger back into its sheath on her back where it belonged, because she very nearly leapt at the entrance. No need for a map from a Grey Warden, or to save up the coin for an expedition by running stupid errands for people or picking up things like silk from a gigantic venomous fucking spider in the Abandoned Ruins. “That gets me all hot and bothered.” Then again, the promise of violence typically did - and there was sure to be something lurking down in the depths.
Off she goes! “Ladies first,” Bela called cheerfully, shimmying down toward her doom.
By the blessed balls of the Maker, he hoped no Regular Joe would be stupid enough trip his happy ass into the blasted hole he’d leave open for the sake of their return. Sure, the responsible thing to do was to close it behind it and attempt to find another point of exit (or make one), but that seemed like a sure way to seal their fate underground. Nope.
It was remarkably dim, within the grand network of dwarven-paved tunnels - many a scholar raved and praised the artisan achievement of the architecture, the geometry of the walls and Paragon statues and, alright, Hawke could sort of appreciate the history of it too. If it weren’t for the unsettling afterglow some things seemed to have, preventing it from being a pitch-black cavern of archaeological potential. To help with their journey, he tapped the end of his staff against the ground and a flame lit the tip of his staff. A torch of sorts.
“I don’t know if I should be concerned or fascinated that it almost seems like a carbon copy of what we’ve seen,” Hawke murmured, his more serious tone of voice activated. He could be very serious, you know. For some moments of time. “Has this always been down here, or is our presence the cause?”
Something that took centuries to plan, and essentially were an underground marvel spanning all of Thedas, yes, well. Isabela could also appreciate the significance, what it all represented, what it once was, what it meant - a dwarven empire, really. A shame that the first Blight had ruined everything, when they were forced to abandon ship, so to speak.
Because magma was once responsible for keeping the Deep Roads alight, and not so chilly, that meant it was just so volcanic. Like being right in Satan’s boudoir, for fuck’s sakes. Bela blinked a few times, to get poisoned honey eyes to adjust to their surroundings - a sense of nostalgia, and memory, washed over her as they began to traverse the paths. Maker’s breath, she was glad she’d worn trousers.
“That’s like the chicken or the egg, love, a philosophical question that you’ll never get the answer to,” she stated, heading for one of the doors that also looked familiar - there was no physical map, however Bela could recall everything sharply. “But I would guess that it’s a mysterious bleedthrough like anything else. No Darkspawn, though.”
Else they’d have heard about it before, right? The red lyrium was also a bag of worms which Isabela would rather not open. The last thing the OC needed was everyone on that shit. “Oooh, but here we go - “ She motioned for Hawke to wait a second, then darted forward - like she had radar, a sixth sense for these things - and disabled a rather complex trap with a few clicks.
“There was an ogre in here, wasn’t there?” Not there would be now.
“Among other things,” Hawke chuckled roughly, following her lead - there you go, Bela, make sure they don’t walk into those conveniently placed beartraps or get burned by fire coming from the walls. He also liked walking behind her. The view was lovely. “You know, it wasn’t completely necessary to wear tro--”
A chitter-chatter, something like incisors being rubbed together. Rapid taps against the walls around them, like something was crawling -
Oh, bloody hell. Bloody. Fucking. Hell.
He groaned. Quite miserably. Smacked his palm against his forehead and everything in expressing his absolute dread when it came to realizing what that really was. Corrupted, massive, eight-legged spiders that would be coming down on their webs, any minute now.
“I really hate spiders. Can we go home yet?”
Eeeeeeuch! That was Isabela’s train of thought as, indeed, those eight-legged beasts all literally dropped in for the party. “Why the hell do they always just fall from the ceiling?” she asked with a huff - and every single one of them at the same time too, fuck it all. Daggers were unsheathed, held in those murderous hands, and she all of a sudden became a duel-weaponed tornado of death, a stab and a squish - literally in one spot in a moment, and another place entirely the next. Bela was quicker than a strike of lightning, far too fast for even the shutter of a camera lens to catch; she didn’t have magic but liked to think she made up for it in other ways.
It was ‘all hands’ on deck for her. Seemed like she had more than two sometimes as well.
Bloody disgusting, is what this was. But there was one bright spot. “We can loot the bodies when we’re done!” You know, sometimes these nasty shits had things on them. Or at least, the silk glands were useful, right?
“I’m not touching them!” Isabela could loot them, Hawke would most certainly not. He bloody hated spiders, it was a cruel cosmic joke that they keep coming at him here too. It also meant he was eager to make sure they were deader than dead. First spell cast was of the arcane variety; an elemental enchantment from afar that engulfed the rogue’s daggers with flames for more efficient slicing and dicing. Against these things there’d always been more than just two, but the ranges were covered. Bela dealt the damage up close, Garrett dealt it from afar.
Like the projectile stone he summoned from the cracked earth, for example. A swift outstretch of his arm helped hurl it in its intended trajectory, pounding against the arachnid on his pirate’s back. Then came another, a violent toss of rock - he rather liked to imagine they were in the shape of shoes and were squishing these dastardly things. “Blight crawlers, I best damn well be swimming in gold after this!”
He’d said that during their expedition in the dreams. The sentiment was still the same.
Wielding daggers of flames, that was a way to make it all just a little more fun. Especially efficient with the twirling blades of jabjabjab and stabstabstab and all sorts of delightful attacks - really, Isabela wielded those weapons like they were perfect extensions of her hands. They may as well have been, she was just so enamoured with her beauties.
Once it sort of thinned out a bit, she trounced on over to a dead (ugly, huge spider) and rummaged until she found the silk gland she was looking for. “Might need it later, right?” Isabela pointed out with a grin. Or someone who mixed up potions probably might. May as well salvage it for use.
And that she did, tucking the goods into her cleavage. “Come on, you sexy beast of a mage - you can swim in gold and shag me in gold, once we get there.” Shagging in a pile of gold, now wouldn’t that be delightful! They’d be all Scrooge McDuck, except an x-rated version.
A sea of spider carcasses, what a sight to behold. A couple extra spells had been extended to make sure they were beyond the chance of even squirming on a thread of life; a little fire, ice, lightning, earth. Mastery of the elements that aided him, considering he wanted to be careful with the use of his blood magic. It was an art he was determined to master - it was magic, of life and darkness. It needed to be understood, not feared.
Hawke hadn’t gone near the plenty-leggged corpses. Maker, no. If Bela wanted to take all their handy dandy things, more power to her. He kicked and shoved some of the dismembered limbs with his staff, shaking his head at her placement of the goods. “Consider that a certainty, love,” he mused, pulling her by the waist to engage into a kiss - alright, alright, Bela stabbing things was bloody attractive. He had half a boner already! “Maybe we’ll open a sister property to the Rear End. Perhaps a tribute to The Hanged Man?”
A rustic, medieval inspired tavern with a couple rooms. He’d create Varric’s abode from memory.
For a moment, Bela forgot about the spider silk glands nestled against her ample bosom. She gladly let herself be ensnared by the rough n’tumble, virile, bearded Ferelden Dog Lord who anchored her closer. Her arms slid around his neck and she managed to arch her back, breasts pressing against him in such a way to be suggestive, provocative, and to not squish the spider booty she had tucked away.
“Do you really want to?” she asked, also forgetting their dank surroundings. “A tribute to the Hanged Man, you mean it?” Because Isabela loved that sordid establishment of ill repute - she had a room there herself, and many fond memories. The setting would be perfect, so very medieval - trestle and board, casks, warm and buttery light bathing everything in a gentle glow that could only come from something on fire. Lanterns hanging from the ceilings, lit with flickering flames that licked against clouded, blackened-near-the-top hurricane glasses. Wooden benches at tables, ceramic and glass and clay and pewter behind the raw wooden bar...
It’d be glorious.
She was going to ensure that half a boner was up to full power very soon here, especially by the way she was molesting his armored cock with the palm of her hand. “Perhaps without the rat droppings in the whiskey though,” she chuckled. “But we could do it. I think we should.”
It was an idea he toyed with, mainly for nostalgia’s sake, but the thought sunk in more seriously with Isabela’s positive response. If they found that pile of treasure down here, it’d be enough for all their necessities plus several frivolous things. One of them being a medieval inspired watering hole, perhaps.
Such things to think about while she was melding her body into his, but he managed to focus. Somewhat. “You think so?” Hawke kissed to the side of her throat, fingers tangled into the mess of obsidian curls. He could ignore the dead bugs for now. “Well, we’ll see how we stand after we cash all this in and take care of a few things, but I think it’s a damn good investment. We’ll have to make cocktails that honor our merry band of misfits.”
Would be a grand place to gather if some of them ever showed their lovely faces. His heart held out for the magnificence of Varric, and Merrill, and to be scolded about stupid things by Aveline. Fenris and his ability to waste wine by throwing a tantrum and tossing it into the wall to express feeeeeelings.
“Hell, I’d live in it,” he mused, blinking up in thought. “And give you a key, of course. Maybe you’ll like it enough to permanently wake up there in the future.”
Yes, those merry misfits. Isabela even missed Lady Man Hands a little, and their precious girly friendship which started off throwing sharp barbs at each other and then progressed into something more respectful, in its own way - Bela helped Aveline come into her own, sexually, you know. Realising that she didn’t have to be afraid of being provocative and feminine, and enjoying pleasure, that there was nothing wrong with any of it. See, even dirty pirates had their uses sometimes.
“We should certainly honour those wankers, in the form of naming drinks after them,” she agreed, then tilted her face up to stare at Hawke in dawning comprehension - trying not to sport a look of fear, but what he said caught her off guard a little. “You want me to live with you?”
In her dreams, her relationship with him was only just beginning, the foundations forming. She still had that shitty room at the Hanged Man and he had his lavish estate. Isabela valued her freedom, her independence, and the idea of living with someone...
Well, it wasn’t so awful, she supposed.
“It’d be better than your flat. Less of that...cheese smell,” she grinned against his mouth, after going in for another kiss. “We’ll start with the key, how’s that?” It wouldn’t take her long to move in permanently, probably. Easily, it would begin with her keeping a toothbrush there, then progress to having her own drawer for clothes, then space in the fridge for food, until she finally just schlepped the rest of her things over - she loved him, she already knew that, but she was trying not to be so afraid of hurting him that she fucked things up.
A key. A good beginning, he thought, to what seemed like the eventual stage they’d reach - like most relationships that progressed in the route of ‘I can see this going somewhere serious.’ Hawke wasn’t a stranger to Bela’s apprehension. Last thing he’d ever dream of doing was nagging her into a scenario she wasn’t ready to be in, and patience was his greatest virtue - he’d take it her pace, and wait, because she was worth every second of it.
Someday he’d voice that. He was sure dropping the ‘key’ suggestion was enough progression on its own. “But the cheese smell is so authentic to Lowtown, isn’t it? Smells conjure the most fondest of memories,” he chuckled, instigating another kiss - deeper, with the slip of tongue and the graze of his teeth against her lips.
His hands patted her bum like a set of drums before releasing her, because while he’d utterly love to make her his in what used to be an impressive dwarven empire (oh, and on a pile of glittering gold coins and jewels), they were still amongst a grave of gross things. Dragons and spiders were doable foes, although tedious to kill, and if that’s all they faced, they should be in the clear.
“I think if we go down there,” pointed the mage, squinting. “We’ll go by where we found Sandal, come to think of it.”
And someday, Isabela would voice those three little words - besides ‘let’s fuck now.’ But for the moment, she was unfortunately released since they had all those moneymakers to find. She licked glossy lips, beginning to get all the more excited at the thought - also at the possibility that they’d face even more dastardly nasties down over yonder; danger was quite the thrill, you see.
“Well, let’s go see what we can discover. Probably not Sandal, but...” She felt her ears popping the deeper underground they got - and hopefully they wouldn’t have any trouble finding their way back. Good thing she was talented at scouting, sometimes - overall plans though, not always the best. Flying by the seat of her non-existent pants seemed to work well enough.
She unsheathed the Heartbreaker again, just in case, after wiping spider blood off the blade. “I smell some evil up ahead.”
“I would shit a rainbow if it were Sandal,” Hawke sighed with every imaginable shade of disappointment. He didn’t particularly mind the violence; it was a good opportunity to stress those magical muscles in a more dire scenario where collateral damage wasn’t much of a concern. Practice made perfect and all that.
There were a couple interesting things while they carried on. Deep Mushrooms for one - he’d harvest some later, once they were in the clear of running into more unpleasant things. He had noticed some raw lyrium deposit, which was best to leave alone for now. That was a substance too volatile for his likes for the moment. Which had him thinking…
His elbow brushed hers, staff pointing over towards a room they knew all too well - part of the thaig they were in, and where Bartrand had attempted to seal their fates. “We find that blasted idol, I say we break it. Not like it’s worth much here but I feel like it’d be swift justice we never exactly got.”
Strangely, Varric had recently pulled him aside to discuss the situation with his brother, last he’d seen of those dreams - he had to wonder what jerkhole had been up to.
Aha, Isabela knew she smelled evil. The raw lyrium was certainly volatile and bad news - she would loot just about anything from this underground rabbit warren besides that. She took a moment to play Hawke’s delectable ass like a drum this time, returning the favour with a grab, before scooting forward to determine whether or not he was right about the idol in the thaig.
“That thing gets into the wrong hands we would have wished we broke it anyway,” she said hastily. “So obliterating it to smithereens, it shall be. I certainly don’t want it.”
Thank the Maker, however, because when they actually went in to the room, nothing in her vision but shades of red, there up the steps on the ancient pedestal there was no idol to be found. It was also eerily quiet, and she wondered what was beyond the door behind where the idol should have been - they had gone through before, having no options once Bartrand sealed them in, leaving them to look for another way out entirely.
“Andraste’s sagging arse,” she huffed, mostly out of relief. “Let’s keep going.”
It was a miracle he could still rake his memory for those essential details while Bela played his bum like an instrument. No idol, thank fuck, the presence itself would have just unsettled him more than he liked - but despite its absence the room felt off. Alive, in an unnatural way, though nothing threatening came from it. It resonated something abnormal and corrupt and the sooner they had exited the room the better he could breathe.
“I don’t like that room,” Hawke grumbled. Could be the red, perhaps. Red down here had such a sinister tint to it. Up ahead he remembered the appearance of shades, the hunger demon that had attempted to strike a deal with him. This time around there was none of that. A blessing in disguise, or a prelude to something more dangerous.
It always led to something more dangerous, in his experience.
His free hand splayed against the small of Isabela’s back, their feet shuffled through, almost there, until something caught his attention. Something rough sliding on the surface, like rubble rolling, striking the other for that spark of friction. Garrett grabbed her bottom as a way to get her to stop moving, once he visibly saw the stones moving in his vision. “Uh - is that what I hope it’s not?”
Normally, Isabela wouldn’t mind an ass grab - Hawke was welcome to get handsy whenever he liked, but this clearly meant something else. “Oh, it is,” she chuckled throatily, and those sounds of friction, of rocks gently rolling to and fro in an ominous sort of way, suddenly shaped into an actual creature - some dastardly fiend also glowing red at the centre; it curled up, energy just building and building and building, and much like a good orgasm, the tension would unravel -
Yes, there we go.
Fucking hellish spears shot out, everywhere, and that meant diving behind a pillar to wait for the onslaught to pass. It lit up the whole room like a discotheque before flickering out. “This fucking blighted thing!” she cursed, but alas, she should have known they’d encounter a creature to fight, something guarding their treasure.
Now, Bela was no woman-shaped battering ram like Aveline, but she could still use her rogue abilities to fade from view and stalk nearer to get close hits in. Andraste’s knickerweasels, just don’t let her die, Hawke.
In another world, in another time, they were armed with a full party to take this thing down. Should have figured nothing pleasant would be lurking down these depths, and he half-thought of recruiting more help for worst case scenarios but alas. What was done was done, it was merely him and Bela and they’d somehow work through this one with hopefully all their fingers and toes in tact.
“Why can’t it just be a bloody dragon guarding the treasure?!” Hawke sighed, irritably, behind one of the massive pillar stone formations they’d used for cover while that wraith’s energy tantrum subsided. He wasn’t all that comfortable with her going at it with her tits in its face; it was gargantuan, clearly not gentle, they didn’t have heavy hitters like Aveline or Fenris to whack at it with a heavy metal object. They’d have to do this smart. Retreat when it got all glowy, attack when it didn’t, and do it long enough until it was just another pile of rubble.
Sounded like a plan, right? Easier said than done. Much easier. This was going to be utterly exhausting.
His first order of business was the pull of the abyss, an entire maelstrom of energy in the dead center of this cavern that began to drag the wraith into it. Garrett had to summon quite a lot of power for that trick; the creature wasn’t what you’d call lightweight or dainty, but it’d give them time to pound it with more direct hits while it slowed to a crawl. Then came the big summoning - the spin of his staff, arms raised high, to bring down a slew of fire (he was somewhat pulling a Wisdom) from the depths of the fade into this corporeal world to slam it down. A firestorm, relentless and hot.
Don’t, uh. Don’t get scorched, Bela.
Right, she very well wouldn’t get scorched to ash today - because Isabela knew her Ferelden lover, and knew that he was going to literally rain fire from the ceiling. She’d darted back, toward the pillars when it happened after she managed to get a few good hits in, right in the soft centre part of the rock creature - in its middle, it wasn’t made of rocks there, and that meant being brave and close enough to take advantage. Which she most certainly did, and you know why?
Because she wanted that fucking treasure. Deep in her bones, she felt a calling for it all - to ease them into a comfortable life, one not brought by ill-gotten gains.
“It’s ours, you cretin!” she shrieked at it, right when another round of rumbling began - the golem began to twist about in a rock tornado of death, the energy gathering once more and then ka-boom in a blast of otherworldly power meant to sizzle and slice them to smithereens. “Come on, then, you fight like my grandmother!”
Alright, well. Taunting it actually did piss it off, surprisingly. But that just made it all the sweeter when she jammed a blade into its pulsing squishy organ, there in the middle of the obstacle. Then, of course, something hard and solid slammed into her abdomen - that was a rock, and she went hurtling backward, knocking against another pillar. Bastard.
Bastard, indeed, because now it had gotten a tad personal, didn’t it? Alright, alright, rock wraith, toss around his lady. See what happens.
His palm brushed against the sharp ends of the stuff. Gashes sliced into flesh to bleed, because while this thing didn’t have blood on its own, his own would help him enhance the effects of what he’d do next - a literal crushing prison spell of a larger magnitude, pillars of white light bursting from the ground to entrap the mass of living fucking stone. It kept it paralyzed, lashing a heavy weight of constant crushing telekinetic force that made its very foundation quiver.
It had given him enough time to actually step to Bela’s aid. He couldn’t heal, that kind of magic didn’t seem to work well with a blood mage. “You alright there?” Isabela wasn’t made of glass, but that had looked nasty. Garrett hoped it appeared worse than it actually felt, and he gingerly - despite the rush of things - had taken her arm to help her up.
With a strong grip, Isabela clasped Garrett’s hand and hefted herself to her feet. “I’m alright,” she promised, though she was a bit breathless from having the wind knocked out of her - no healing required though, she’d had worse injuries. “Let’s finish this and get our bloody treasure.”
She could make a shot from here, now that the creature was trapped and thrashing in the grip of magic. It had a candy-coated centre, that pulsing heart (or whatever it was meant to be - the very life essence, she supposed) and her aim was good enough to pierce it; kind of a final hurrah in battle - taking down this beast together, like old times, in honour and memory of the ones who couldn’t be here today. How she missed them all - Varric with his crossbow (Bianca!), Fenris and his magical fisting, Merrill with her kittenish blood magic, Aveline and her battering ram self.
Saying a quick prayer to the pink taco of Andraste, Isabela flung the dagger for a bullseye. Direct hit. Say goodnight, monster.
And there it went, crumbling and collapsing into itself, that malicious light snuffed out and no longer giving it some kind of life force. Hawke’s arm flew across her middle to keep her close, cautious of getting too close to the rain of bloody boulders that fell from up high from where it ‘head’ was. Silence settled afterwards, neither of them the definition of clean thanks to this confrontation. He was personally smeared with dirt, blood on his hand from the superficial slices into his hand.
“Now we have to dig through the rocks for your dagger,” he huffed a breathless chuckle, peering cautiously over what used to be a damn quasi-demonic menace. Well, they didn’t literally need to dig - he could summon some telekinetic energy to separate the heap and make it easy to find the damn thing, but give them a minute!
They needed to breathe. He slid against one of the pillars, bringing the pirate down with him, and just sat.
“We’re alive.”
Holy hell, praise every chosen deity! Bela basically deflated then, knees giving out, and she slid down to sit beside Hawke. Or on him, rather, in his lap. Her arms encircled his shoulders and she really hoped he didn’t tell her to bugger off or something because she didn’t think she could take it - she just needed the closeness, despite how dirty and bloody they both were. Still, they’d snogged in worse situations, hadn’t they? Covered in dragon guts and the like?
“We’re alive,” she echoed, and proceeded to kiss the hell out of him. And smother him with her bosom. “And good thing too, you’re not allowed to die on me when I’ve got all those stupid feelings for you.”
She’d promised to come through for him, and that meant in every aspect - especially down in the Deep Roads, not perishing because of some rock beast when they had plans to get rich and open a newer, cleaner version of their favourite shitty Lowtown tavern.
He may have forgotten the sticky wetness of his hand when he pressed his palm against his cheek. Not that it really hurt, but his intention wasn’t to drag streaks of red down her face like some tribal madwoman. Hawke didn’t notice it quite yet, though, every sense absorbed by the whopping smack of lips and shameless bosom rubbing. “Very doubt I would have died, love,” he grinned, the widening of his mouth creating that infamous dip of his dimples. “But I have very stupid feelings for you too.”
Such a lovely thing to say in their current predicament. But he and Bela survived something rather impressive on their own - she was officially the best partner in crime he could ask for. “I’m rather proud of us, you know. That could have ended in shit.” His batteries were re-charging, and he didn’t suffer from any serious wound, but he went to gently press against her middle. “Going to guess you’re going to wake up sore. I just want to make sure nothing’s broken before we make ourselves rich.”
Hopefully. Hopefully they wouldn’t find chests of nothing like that empty room that once held the idol.
Those damn dimples. They were the reason Isabela was even still in Orange County - well, and that Maker-blessed cock of Hawke’s too. Large and in charge, he knew how to use it - she’d have to be an idiot to give that up. “I haven’t got any broken bones,” she assured him, around more kisses, her nose nuzzling his face in some attempt at eskimo kissing and cuddling in the midst of the actual bowels of Hell. “I’m just bruised, love, but I’ll take a bath later and be right as rain.”
A bath, a roll in the hay, treasure, money, riches - those were all just what the doctor ordered.
Quickly, she wiggled up to stand. A bit shaky at first, but eventually she found her footing. Then trotted over to definitely grab her dagger from the rubble - it was the Heartbreaker, and she wasn’t about to leave it here. “You better not have any broken bones either. But alright then, you ready?” Onward they would go.
Nothing broken, dick still in tact, no worries there. He’d feel some ache after he got rest - that had been a lot more moving around and running from projectile rocks and blasts of evil than he was used to in this waking life, alright? Hawke stood with a groan, knees cracking. “All’s well on this end,” he confirmed and grabbed his staff. They weren’t far from it now, he could almost smell the jewels and coin in the horizon.
Or maybe it was his own sweat, which he’d insist did smell like gold and other shiny things.
Stoney wreckage left behind them, they set off to close the distance between them and their prize and knowing that it was close had energized him - and had him readily prepared to blast any dwelling vermin that decidedly became an obstacle (which happened a lot, in Thedas, an endless amount of fucking spiders for the fuck of it). In the end they came to what used to be a door for something, surrounded by boulders and debris, and with a wave of his staff he easily cleared all that.
And there it was, a sight to behold - vivid, brilliant gold, jeweled goblets and more, from stringed pearls to rubies and emeralds, the things that royalty wiped their ass with on regular basis. Literally, they could roll around it in and bathe their armpits with the amount of shit there was in here.
“A praise to the Maker’s steely balls,” he breathed, a low whistle at the sight. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day.”
Oh, it was beautiful. Isabela nearly wept upon seeing their glittering tickets to a life of riches - she wanted to run forward and grab everything, dive into it like all this treasure was the majestic ocean blue. It was about as freeing as such, because all she saw when she looked at the bounty was open possibility.
And a hell of a lot of shinies. She was like a pirate magpie in that regard.
“Look at it!” she crowed delightedly. Nothing was going to stop her from rifling through the jewels, practically swimming in everywhere as she took it all in; not even knowing where to start to bring it all back with them was a problem, but a problem she would gladly have. “We’ll be able to open the Hanged Man and then some. You can pay off Bethany and Carver’s tuition. You wouldn’t even have to work at the chicken and tits place anymore, unless you wanted to.”
Hawke might enjoy it for some odd reason. Bela wouldn’t judge. Rising from the depths of bathing in gold, she literally leapt onto her bearded mage. “I want you to fuck me in this pile.”
It was like the sight of the it all, the victory, became some kind of aphrodisiac because while Hawke was exhausted, her idea sounded divine. Plus he also sort of promised this in the very beginning of this trek, didn’t he? That if they found all the booty he’d fuck her on it, and he scarcely went back on a promise like that.
Also he was excited. It conjured enough adrenaline on his own. Knowing that he didn’t have to be so financially stressed out to care for his family? That they could live a little more and work a little less?
A cause for a celebration. Over drinks eventually too. Staff dropped to the ground, his arms opened wide to allow him to catch the flying rogue into his arms - hands on her bum, fingers practically embracing it, and he kissed her something fierce. “Trousers are rather unnecessary - imagine how easy this would be if you went without them like your lovely counterpart, hm?”
The pile was high enough. Thick enough. He could practically pummel her into it, though he figured she’d enjoy that.
“It was bloody cold without trousers,” Isabela laughed, giving Hawke’s lower lip an impish bite. She was already going to town on his armor from her vantage point, all that nugskin leather - but really, she only needed to get the trousers off or partway down for them to accomplish this rather sordid goal. Literally fucking in a pile of treasure, wasn’t that everyone’s dream though?
Then she wiggled free, feet touching the ground - but only so she could lean against the pile, rather lying back in it. “And I don’t know how I managed to kill so many things without my tits busting free. No matter now, however.” She was all for those assets making an appearance - considering she was falling out of her corset top anyway, string barely held together in the front.
“My only question is, why haven’t you learned a spell for disintegrating my clothes yet?” she huffed - the trouble with taking off trousers was that boots had to come off first, oh, bother.
Was there a spell for such a thing? Hm. Hawke could contemplate that later - after certain matters were attended to, that is. It was easy enough to unfasten himself from the mess of belts that came with this set of armor, and it was done in time to appreciate the sight of her splayed against their earned fortune. Really, he had to take it all in - while also stroking himself in front of her.
“You could take them off completely, you know,” he ‘innocently’ suggested, a grunt with that too - especially since he’d gotten hard enough to literally stab her with it, which...well, was his plan. But he decided to be proactive with that statement and help her out of it like a gentleman, you see. Just to toss it. Somewhere. On a pile of rocks or a pile of bones, who cared.
In the midst of letting her top fall open and in a homage to terrible romance novels, her breasts spilling free, Bela noticed something very important. Wait, wait, wait. Garrett was touching himself, about to do a one-man battle with the purple-headed yohgurt slinger. If that didn’t distract Isabela, then nothing would. “Ooh, let me seeee,” she purred, providing an even better sight, now with bare legs and knees butterflying to the sides, giving her own self a bit of engine revving with slender fingers between her thighs.
And subsequently giving him a lovely view. She was plenty wet - snogging amongst dead spider corpses (and violence) got her going pretty good, he knew that. Plus, seeing him touch himself was essentially an instant gush.
“You holding your sausage hostage while the glint of gemstones reflect off your sweaty naked flesh - that’s going in my spank bank. But now I want it in me.” Now, damnit. Don’t keep her waiting, Hawke, it’ll get ugly.
Pfft, he'd keep her waiting. A little. Because be did want to enjoy the lovely sight of the splayed seductress first, moving over her to capture that mouth in a breathless kiss. Hawke was also a bit of a greedy fucker, slithering a hand between their bodies so he could touch her instead, wanting those fingers soaked slick because of her - rubbing sensitive flesh, penetrating her with them, giving her a teasing round of anticipation.
Though for a second he sorta has to laugh, huskily, against her lips. "Such a way with words," he told her, right before ducking his head and giving attention to that throat. Teeth and wet kisses against that curve of her collarbone, hot breath against that caramel skin. "And you're impatient."
Hawke had stupid, very stupid feelings for the pirate queen beneath him - and while he typically didn't have an issue plowing into her with a load of dirty talk and kinky things, he wanted to appreciate this a little. Not often would they get to fuck in the Deep Roads like this (if there wasn't the excitement of treasure he'd be more overwhelmed by the possibility of shades), he'd make sure her first rump n' hump on their booty would be remembered with a little more fondness.
He was sweet, wasn’t he? Isabela appreciated it, she appreciated him - he inspired all sorts of those stupid feelings for her, including but not limited to the desire to be better, to do the right thing, to make those types of decisions for herself. She was still terrified that she’d hurt him somehow, it was why she held her words back just a bit, because she knew herself - and she just had this inkling that once he dreamed of what type of person she really was, he would want to call things off there and here.
“You’re my boyfriend, you have to put up with how impatient I am,” she smirked, not even noticing how that was essentially the first time she’d ever used that word (the ‘b’ word) seriously in regards to anyone. It was a ridiculous word, however fitting, she supposed. But paying any mind to it was swept away, a hungry moan escaping her because of the skilled tease of rough fingers - and her hand disappeared between them as well, an equally skilled, deliberate stroke that had a touch of reverence to it because she sort of wanted Hawke to enjoy himself too.
Not to mention she would take any chance to worship at the shrine of his man parts.
She shifted on their booty a little, angling him where she wanted him - which was very nearly in her, he’d just have to pelvic thrust, and her thighs framed his hips to hold him to her quite possessively. Then she made a point to grip his arms, on his biceps, because one of her favourite things was how they felt and how they flexed when they held her in the midst of passion -
Oh, bugger, she was turning into a sappy idiot.
Boyfriend? How interesting. It may have missed her (or she could be wilfully ignoring it), but he didn’t - ever attentive of her mannerisms, the way she moved, talked. Perhaps it was best to not bring it up; she had quite the mouth on her, scarcely ever said things she didn’t, but he could always tease her about it later.
When his cock wasn’t almost engulfed in her anyway.
Hawke nuzzled her with his nose, brushed that prickly scruff against her jawline. Wordless tokens of affection that came right before the abrupt, full thrust right into that sweet wet home. One calloused hand gripped her thigh tight, the other pushed back behind her and into the mountain of valuable. Sinking into the coins no less. He smelled the gold, the earth, the scent of her skin - it was some kind of spice, almost sweet, and he readied himself for a second plunge in. A rhythm to start, bodies rocking.
With that abrupt thrust, some of the coins came raining down, particular gemstones dislodging as well, all plinkplinkplinking like sweet music onto the ground. Bela knew, with certainty, that she’d be sore in many ways tomorrow morning - but the soreness of muscles used during this act would be a good kind of ache.
She could be as loud as she wanted down here in the very pit of the Earth, and she was - a moan that was his name, pleasured and husky as her nails gained traction to anchor herself. Her body arched and her hips shot up, crashing against his, finding that rhythm they both tended to ease into so well - perhaps it was chemistry, or something else, but they were compatible in the best ways and Isabela didn’t question it.
Her other leg, the one Garrett didn’t have a grip on, wrapped tight around him - and he’d experience a heel digging into him too, encouraging more movement, encouraging him to definitely pummel her through this heap of treasure. “I don’t want you to ever stop fucking me,” she gasped, which...well, slightly impossible but no one said she had to make sense in times like these!
Yes, loud, he’d never protest to that. If those sounds woke the dead whose bones laid stray then he’d find that as the oddest of accomplishments, really. And he certainly wasn’t the quietest either, but Hawke enjoyed muffling those sounds into her mouth. Into the curve of her ear, the line of her shoulder, lips claiming every bit of her as he could - Bela’s skin was warm, with salt from their sweat, but to him she never tasted better.
Their bodies rocked tightly together and it all fell around them, the treasure; like a bed of money, clinking, echoing throughout the earthy walls around them. Every thrust had force, and every rise of her hips against his at every plunge of cock he’d been doing helped him slip in deep. It was maddening, the feel of her tight around him - searing hot and wet, so wet with a bit of contribution on his end too.
“So demanding,” Garrett taunted, though his jest wasn’t spouted too clearly - his breath was labored, grunts and moans as he drilled in and out of her. His knees would be bruised and scraped from being pressed against the ground, but fuck, it was worth it. “Make a mess on me, love, come, let me feel you.” He was determined to get her off first. It was the chivalrous thing to do, or some horseshit, but the sight of her beneath him and quivering and moaning...
Well, alright, he tried to not blow his load yet.
She had her hands all over him, not just appreciating the shift of hard muscle beneath his skin but also in his hair to grab a fistful, those fingers of hers making claws too - Garrett’s back would bear the marks of this encounter, crescent moon shapes of Isabela’s nails but she didn’t think he would mind too much. At the angle he was at, the way she was positioned in the very shiny pile of goodies, meant that she could reach in between them and toward slippery skin, down south - she could touch herself, both a show of pleasure and the feeling zinging through her veins.
The slam of bodies together sounded so interesting this far underground, in a cavern where rooms away you could find dead spider corpses - but that was just them, they’d fuck anytime and in anyplace possible; it was something Bela was actually quite proud of. “Now who’s the demanding one?” she sassed, but it wouldn’t be long before she gave in.
No, not at all. Because then she was clenching around him, innermost muscles a vice grip, practically screaming his name as waves of euphoria crashed over her - she had to get him to slow down a little, that same heel on his lower back and her hands flying to his hips until she could bear the sensitivity. Then when she let go, it was body language that meant he could gladly pound her through the treasure to reach his own finish line.
There she goes, the scream music to his damn ears - rather flattering, too, and had it him revved up even more if at all bloody possible but he wouldn’t overwhelm that crashing wave of ecstasy either. Everything too sensitive, too tingly, he slowed his pace with long strokes - nice and easy, tip of his cock slipping out of her just barely and then right back in he went. She was lovely, all debauched underneath him, and he was sure the woman would eventually be the end of him. Though not many could ever say they fucked ‘til the death, so it seemed like a pleasant way to ever go in his eyes.
And don’t worry, he did plow her through the rest of the staining treasure; the remaining gold and emeralds, rubies and sapphires. Hawke swallowed as much air in his lungs as he could, bit her swollen lips and that her throat and simply lost himself in her, like nothing around them could exist but them. Not the ruins or every otherworldly creature that lurked the shadows. Not even their precious values that’d get them out of a financial shithole - though that one was at least nice?
Foreheads pressed together, a rumbled moan from his throat, and that thrust was it - hard enough to physically slide them up a little, a burst of messy heat to fill her with and stain her thighs. Hawke’s fingers curled into her hair, perhaps even pulled a little, and tried not to flop on her like a heaping pile of bearlike man.
But he did.
A little.
Crushing her ribs only the slightest out of love. “Do you think other people do this atop of paper dollars?”
More and more, Isabela found that she really liked being the one to make Hawke lose control, to lose himself, in her - that she was the one responsible for such a thing, because it was utterly glorious to witness. Fucking could be a mechanical thing, it could be just something you did to get your rocks off and to feel good, but intimacy and closeness - those were concepts that she hadn’t really experienced with anyone else. That intimacy was a whole other type of heady pleasure; it made her dizzy and drunk on it.
“Oh, I doubt it,” she huffed a laugh, petting him gently, not minding that he was crushing her out of love. She didn’t seem keen on letting go anyway, still locking him between her legs as her fingers stroked gentle patterns on his shoulders and down his arms. “Not everyone is as dirty as us, though they probably wish they were as adventurous, to shag in a pile of riches.”
Some minor adjustments were made - primarily on how he focused some of his weight on his elbows so she wouldn’t have issues doing normal things, like breathing. But overall he planned on remaining where he was, with that scruffy face nestled into the warm crook of her neck.
Pleasantly surrounded by money. “A once in a lifetime opportunity,” Hawke chuckled. “This went much better than I had expected. It’s not that I doubted we’d come out victorious, just…” A click of his tongue. “Less gore, less Blighty? We’ll have to seal the way we came the best we can - perhaps they’ll build a sandbox on top of it after they reconstruct.”
A sandbox that left to dwarven ruins. That’d comfort any and all parents, surely.
“This park seems to be beyond hope, but perhaps,” Isabela snickered. You never could tell - maybe some volunteer group would roll up their sleeves and decide to turn this literal crater into something actually fit for children.
That also led to dwarven ruins, but oh well. It was a funny secret that only the two of them knew!
“You could bring your godbaby here or something,” she added, nuzzling at Hawke’s face and kissing his temple. “Tell them about the adventures you had journeying to the centre of the Earth for literal treasure.”
“Minus the literal fornication on literal treasure,” he volleyed back, grinning, and smothering her mouth with a rain of kisses, all before mustering the energy to roll off of her. On his back, where he could work on the technicalities of, ah, tucking himself back in and working on fastening the belts (which he did half-assedly). “Assuming we get this cleared out of every psuedo-demonic creature crawling about. Though, I don’t know, all that lyrium...”
It naturally grew around here, didn’t it? And the room that was supposed to have hold the idol - everything about it was unsettling. Knowing his luck he’d bring the child down here and they’d stumble onto a hive of darkspawn, and then the parents would literally string him up by the nuts over a bonfire.
Sigh.
Hawke propped himself up, surveying the space with suspicion. “What we discovered tonight might not be the only things down here, is the thing. We may have opened up a wormhole to all of Thedas’ dirty laundry, who knows.”
Isabela also began the process of re-clothing, tying her corset and piecing it together again so her tits weren’t spilling out - well, not too/i> much. Then the trousers were slipped back on over sore, shaky legs - her bruises were also screaming at her, and she was quite knackered, but they just had to last a little while longer. “We may have,” she didn’t dispute that, “...but whatever happens, we’ll handle it. Now that we know this is here we can bring a couple trusted people down to help clear out the loot but take what we can carry now at the very least. We deserve that much.”
Boots now back on too, she was sex-rumpled and disheveled but still ready to grab and go, so to speak. “One step at a time, love. It’s been a long day - and quite an adventure, no?” She’d sort of missed it - if only the others were here too, but the thought of honouring them in the form of drinks named after them, well, she felt like that was really appropriate for the likes of those in the dysfunctional family.
Bela had a point. One step at a time, there was no need to concern himself with the endless possibilities of disaster right this minute. Tonight was a victory. “I could just stuff my pillow with some of this and sleep like a baby,” Hawke chuckled, up on his feet. A single golden coin was traversing between his fingers - he needed to touch it again, feel the weight and reconfirm its actual existence. “Do you think ‘I Like Big Boats, I Cannot Lie’ is too long for a drink name?”
It didn’t hurt to make tentative plans for their new upcoming business and poke some fun at her too, did it? Maybe they really could invest on getting her some kind of authentic pirate boat, perhaps with more modern additions (like a toilet, for starters).
Something for the future, then. It looked brighter now - though that could also be literally attributed to the gems, but he guessed it worked figuratively as well.