Dragon Age 1. Chapter 1

LIPS

**Author's Note: I don't own any of the characters in this story.**

Lips…

Her lips…

Her beautiful…luscious lips…

I don't think that I'd ever truly realized that simple and yet profound fact until that moment that our eyes met that day outside of Lothering, her breasts pressing firmly up against mine.

By any rational right we should have been scared out of our collective minds.

But instead at that moment her incredible beauty was all that I could think of.

Our lips were fearfully and terribly closing to touching, to close four our being in public.

Were we back home by the lake how close our lips were would not have mattered.

By the lake our lips could get as close as we wanted, our lips and anything else that got the itch to be close.

Our first time had been when we'd gotten caught out in a spring rain.

Our father had told us to stay close to home but she'd had other ideas, saying that we needed a safe and quiet place to practice our magic, far enough away from town as to not reveal ourselves to the ever present templars.

I had tried to protest but my feeble words had fallen on deaf ears that day like many others.

We had been on our way home when the rain had started falling.

We'd made it as far as a small stream that lead into the lake when she'd grabbed my hand and pulled me under a large tree, one that Carver would always climb up into when he wanted to get a moments peace.

I'd barely had time to begin to register a complaint when she had pushed me up against the tree and pressed her lips to mine.

I tired to give a voice to my discomfort at first, but her attempts to loosen the knots on my bodice had interrupted any fleeting thoughts of freedom.

Through the kisses I laughed at her attempts and before she could move beyond a disapproving scowl I pushed her hands away and did the job myself.

We kept each other as warm as we could until the rain stopped.

Father had been very cross with us when we had gotten home, though thankfully for us the usual scents and smells that follow a spring rain had masked our deeds.

It had been our first time, but it had certainly not been our last.

We had no schedule to it, we had always been closer to each other than to Carver, and it was not the first secret that we had kept from him.

Had it been back at the lake I would have gladly kissed her then.

But running from the darkspawn horde was an entirely different matter.

She had tackled me out of the way of the hard charging ogre, with her ending up on top of me, as always.

It wasn't until our mother's screams shattered our moment of blissful tranquility in a moment of utter horror that everything changed.

Our brother was dead, and nothing would ever change that or bring him back, no matter how much we wished that it would.

In that single solitary moment I realized something.

I realized that I was in love, I was in love with my sister, and at the moment I could only pray to the Maker that she felt the same way.

Bethany Hawke

P/S-I'm not advocating or approving or supporting incest but there's been plenty of people that'd wished that Bethany was a character that you could romance so this popped into my head. I know that in the game Bethany is a chaste virgin and that if you choose a mage in the beginning that she'd be the one to die and Carver to live. If people like this enough I'll continue, with each forthcoming chapter then being like another entry in Bethany's diary. If not…ah well at least the thought is out of my head. Thank You.


	2. Chapter 2

FOOLISH

Author's Note: I don't own any of the characters in this story except for this version of the eldest Hawke.

How foolish am I…

I should have known that my original ideals of romance were nothing more than the rantings of an idealistic child.

I'd thought that we'd have months if not years to talk and figure out just what we are to each other.

Were we sisters or lovers.

In fact it took less than a month for me to discover that the answer to that questions was…sisters.

Her name was Norah, the waitress at the Hanged Man, a woman sick and tired of being treated like a piece of meat day in and day out.

I should have seen it coming, for weeks my sister had called the drinks that they serve there swill.

And yet I should have realized that my sister didn't miss a chance to spend most of her free time there.

They hadn't seen me the night that my suspicions were laid to rest.

I caught them sitting underneath the vhenadahl in the Elven Alienage, kissing like there was no tomorrow.

Later on I discovered that their…relationship had become serious enough that some of the bars regulars had started calling Norah my sisters bitch.

I was supposed to be her bitch…or so I thought.

Mother still believes that one of these days she'll find just the right guy for the both of us.

Neither one of us have the heart to tell her that we like women instead.

I think that Carver had begun to suspect the truth before we were forced to leave Lothering, but I fear that as per usual he probably would have brought it up at the worst possible time, like in the midst of a battle or the moment that we would get our home back.

Mother has spent so much time trying to get an audience with the viscount that we've been forced to spend time with our favorite uncle…yuck.

My dear older sister prefers to come up with some pitiful excuse and sneak off to spend time with Norah or one of the other tramps that I've spotted her with recently.

When I try to bring Norah or one of the others up with her she either instantly changes the subject or gives me a glare that I'd thought was solely that of our mother.

The last time I dared to ask her about Norah she'd flashed me that glare only to then seconds later soften up and kiss me like she used to.

I hate to admit that her kiss made me go weak in the knees.

I've faced down darkspawn and worse without batting an eyelash.

It's embarrassing that a simple kiss from her sends me back to those early days by the lake, where I could have her all to myself.

I tried my best, I really did, to push her away and tell her no.

No, Not Now, Not This Day.

But I was weak…so we got a room at the Rose, a room and some wine.

I should never drink on a dare, as I found out that next morning.

I awoke to find Varric standing on the bed staring down at me.

I told him to take his hand off of me and to get the hell out of the room.

He made some smug remark before pointing out, with much delight in his voice, that it was not his hand to move in the first place.

I nearly screamed out loud when I glanced down and realized that it wasn't my hand or my sisters either.

I only realized whom the hand belonged to when she pulled the covers off and smiled at me…Norah.

I had slept with Norah…that slut.

I seriously thought about hexing her into next week when Varric jumped off of the bed and pulled the rest of the covers off with him.

To my great surprise I saw my dear older sister softly snoring away, using Norah's bare backside and the small of her back for a pillow.

At that point it was all that I could do to not break down and cry.

In the end I threw my head back into the pillow and squeezed my eyes as tightly closed as I could and prayed to the maker that this day had never happened.

Like I said…how foolish am I.

Bethany Hawke


	3. Chapter 3

PIRATE QUEEN

Author's Note: I don't own any of the characters in this story except for this version of the eldest Hawke.

Pirate Queen

A penny for your thoughts.

I must admit that I'd always thought of pirates as men, ugly, stinking, incorrigible wretches that would just as soon slit your throat than look at you.

Isabella…however…is many things, and none of them past being uncouth and vulgar fit with her being a pirate, let alone their captain.

I knew that she was trouble from the moment that she swayed those hips into our lives.

Those damn hips of hers…

Mostly…I've realized that they're the only things keeping me from staring at another pair of hers…a pair a little higher up.

She used every single one of her assets to convince my sister to help her find that relic of hers…she probably stole it in the first place.

There have been times in which I question whether the relic truly exits at all or whether the whole search was a setup.

A setup to get near my sister.

I never doubted that Isabella's offer of "company" was genuine.

Ever since the fight in the Hanged Man I'd noticed her sizing my sister up.

I try not to wonder if the pirate queen upsets me so because I wish that she had been sizing me up instead.

Every time that we try to have a civilized conversation about anything she somehow steers it into being about something sexual in nature.

I can tell that my sister just eats it up, leaving Aveline to grumble under her breath and roll her eyes fro the hundredth time.

Isabella misses no opportunity to entice Merrill with one innuendo laden opportunity after another.

Thankfully the young elf is far too naive to understand any of the offers.

When Isabella turns those haunting eyes my way and those full luscious lips part I very nearly scream out in frustration wondering whether she means what she says or whether it's just her toying with me.

I believe that everything is a game to her, a game that she only plays when she can be declared the winner.

I don't know if she takes anything seriously, outside of her life.

With her one problem is never enough, and of course my dear older sister is all to eager to be there to get her out of it.

I'm scared to admit it but I'm beginning to question whether or not my big sister would be there for me if the templars caught wind of my presence and decided to do something about it.

I fear that given my luck it'd happen at exactly the same time that one of Isabella's old acquaintances were to suddenly reenter her life.

Mother could tell that I was upset, though she came to the same wrong conclusion that all but our closest friends would, that I was either simply worried about my dear sister and Isabella simply being a bad influence on her or that I needed her help with something and she was to busy with her new friend.

Only Varric and Norah would know the real reason for my melancholy.

Though I am loathe to admit it in my frustration I took back up with Norah, greatly I now realize, because I found myself wallowing in despair at the Hanged Man at a low point in the day…

It scared me entirely too much then and now at how good it felt to have her lying against me, her skin is so smooth.

I try to ignore Norah's gaze when we visit the Hanged Man and shut my ears to any and all of the conversations, if that's what you could call them, between Isabella and my sister.

Perhaps someday I could forgive that woman if cleaning up her mistakes lead us to the nicer and cleaner parts of Kirkwall and the surrounding countryside.

But we seem to have hit every back alley, sewer, waste dump, and seedy establishment around.

If I didn't know any better I'd say that she enjoys it all.

Mother I believe tolerates Isabella for my sisters sake, helped greatly by the fact that we have nowhere else to go as of yet.

For her part Isabella toes the line for the most part so as to keep her charade intact.

But when mother turns her back for more than a moment or two the pirate queen reveals her true colors.

Uncle Gamlen prefers to ignore anything and anyone that does not come with the possibility of earning him coin.

He and Isabella are like two peas in a pod, he couldn't be happier about all of the time that she and my dear sister spend together.

Every time that they speak I feel like more of a stranger in my own guest quarters.

Any day now I worry that I may wake up one morning to find myself without a home, asked to vacate my bed so that their new favorite daughter Isabella can take my place.

Had I more than a couple of galleons to my name I would have moved out weeks ago, perhaps with Norah.

Instead I'm left to wonder what every new dawn will bring.

Maker help me, help me endure that bitch, that pirate queen, that beautiful…sexy…damned pirate queen.

Bethany Hawke


End file.

Dragon Age, Adventure, Romance