Isabela can't resist. The King, here? It's the work of hardly a minute to gain unauthorized access to the Keep and make her way to the visitors' quarters (she's been there before, after all; traveling nobility do tend to bring portable wealth with them.) She finds the king alone before the fire, stripped down for a room that's far warmer than it needs to be, and he looks older, more tired than he did in the Pearl. Being in charge seems to do that to people. (But not her. Then again, a ship's hardly a kingdom, is it?)
"Well, well, well," she says, and watches him jump and flail and upset a mug of mulled wine in his frantic grab for his weapons. She leans back against the doorjamb and laughs herself silly, because the King of Ferelden is in naught but an undertunic and smalls, dripping with mulled wine and attempting to intimidate her with a Templar shield and a sword that is, admittedly, rather large.
"Isabela," he says, "what on earth are you doing here? It's a good way to get killed, sneaking up on me like that."
"Do tell," Isabela says. "I imagine your Warden Queen has surprised you a time or two." On the other hand, Lady Cousland--now Queen--had always favored the bow. Likely she didn't sneak around like Isabela did.
Alistair sighs and puts his weapons down, away from the slowly seeping pool of wine. "I assume you're here for a purpose other than tormenting me," he says, though there's little heat to the words.
Now that he's disarmed, Isabela crosses the room in the blink of an eye and presses her lips to his. The boy has improved since the Pearl. She nips his lower lip and presses her breasts full against his chest, and is both intrigued and disappointed when he steps back.
"No," he says, but it's kind.
Isabela rolls her eyes. "She's got you well-trained." She starts for the door, and pauses to glance back over her shoulder. "In more ways than one. It's good to see you again, Alistair."
She leaves him spluttering behind her, and hums to herself as she climbs back down the walls. She ought to make time to visit Ferelden sometime soon, see if the Queen has likewise improved her already excellent skills.
The More Things Change, Isabela/Alistair/(f!Cousland)
"Well, well, well," she says, and watches him jump and flail and upset a mug of mulled wine in his frantic grab for his weapons. She leans back against the doorjamb and laughs herself silly, because the King of Ferelden is in naught but an undertunic and smalls, dripping with mulled wine and attempting to intimidate her with a Templar shield and a sword that is, admittedly, rather large.
"Isabela," he says, "what on earth are you doing here? It's a good way to get killed, sneaking up on me like that."
"Do tell," Isabela says. "I imagine your Warden Queen has surprised you a time or two." On the other hand, Lady Cousland--now Queen--had always favored the bow. Likely she didn't sneak around like Isabela did.
Alistair sighs and puts his weapons down, away from the slowly seeping pool of wine. "I assume you're here for a purpose other than tormenting me," he says, though there's little heat to the words.
Now that he's disarmed, Isabela crosses the room in the blink of an eye and presses her lips to his. The boy has improved since the Pearl. She nips his lower lip and presses her breasts full against his chest, and is both intrigued and disappointed when he steps back.
"No," he says, but it's kind.
Isabela rolls her eyes. "She's got you well-trained." She starts for the door, and pauses to glance back over her shoulder. "In more ways than one. It's good to see you again, Alistair."
She leaves him spluttering behind her, and hums to herself as she climbs back down the walls. She ought to make time to visit Ferelden sometime soon, see if the Queen has likewise improved her already excellent skills.