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