They're both susceptible to her illusion.

She doesn't do it hard enough to actually affect their behavior strongly - she's aiming more to freak them out, cause a bit of adrenaline... Which will be enough to break this, she's being so gentle.

The two are made to fight each other a while longer while Hawke bulls through a few more traps, but eventually all three are in a position where they can't fight back.

"Oh, too bad. Looks like the opening act is drawing to a close."

She appears, sitting on the edge of the stage, legs crossed primly.

"Of course, Act Two will be quite the thriller."

"Do I want to know what Act Two entails?" asks Isabela.

"You just asked, so I think the answers is yes," Zevran says.

"Oh, but why spoil all the fun?"

"Though I must say - classically, Act Two is when it is decided who will make it to Act Three. Quite a suspenseful time."

"Oh, are we being asked to surrender?" Isabela says. "Because I would like to surrender."

"Dammit, Isabela-" Hawke says, struggling.

"Sorry, Hawke. You're cute, but I won't die for you."

She clasps her hands. "You surely don't need to decide now, but the choice is this - "

"My friends and I are going to have some fun with you all. Well, fun for us. You'd have to be of an exceptionally peculiar mindset to find it fun for yourselves. But maybe some of you are - Hawke dearest certainly held up well. Out for only a day and a half is rather impressive after what I did."

"At the end, there'll be two paths before you. One is quite short, though you'll get to discover whatever lies after death. One is - well, its length depends on how well you entertain me. I don't get bored easily, but if I do... I've never actually had a pet who didn't want very earnestly to die, but I suppose I could let you go, then. If it'd be amusing."

"So let me see if I understand this," says Zevran. "You're going to torture us, and then give us a choice between death and more torture?"

She taps her chin a bit dramatically. "Pretty much!"

"I don't suppose there's a third option?" he asks.

"What do you have in mind? Something narratively appropriate, I hope?"

"Oh, well, what would you like? Gold, killings in your name, earthly desires...?"

"You see, I have quite the dilemma here! I would like a pet. Which I suppose is a sort of earthly desire. Killing - I can certainly handle that myself. If you want freedom before I get bored, well, you'll have to get a bit creative. Half the fun here is seeing what you put on a platter - there's very little I want that I can't just take."

"That does seem like a problem. For us, of course, not so much you."

"Maybe you'd like a cooperative pet," Isabela does the best sultry voice she can in her condition. "I could be... flexible."

"Perhaps!"

"What about you, Hawke dearest?"

Hawke curses backstabbing Rivaini and treacherous elves and hell-bitches spawned from the depths of the Fade.

She moves, suddenly before him, finger under his chin. "Now that's not very nice of you at all, is it? Surely there's something you want, some boon, some price?"

"I want you dead," he spits in her face.

It doesn't land.

"Awww. And here I was hoping we could be friends."

"You're evil, and I won't give in to you."

"Pity. I suppose I'll be killing you, then."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, trust me, I have plans for that."

He renews his futile efforts to break free.