#bethabela

Still on my post-mini-bang bethabela garbage

For this weeks @thehangedmancreatives drawalong. Ref below jump

Since the promo post is now shared, I wanted to post here too.

The @thehangedmancreatives 10k Mini Bang was my first time participating in a (mini) bang, and I couldn't be happier with this experience.

Something flickered in Bethany's expression, but she looked away before Isabela could pinpoint what it was. "Everyone has opinions on my decision, but it won't change anything. It's just changing the curtains when everything else outside of your room has been swallowed up."

"That's a pretty specific metaphor there, sweetness."

If you can’t wake up in the morning with pillows strewn everywhere and stare lovingly into your wife’s eyes for ten minutes straight are y’all even married

Thanks for the tag @fiannans!

I'm working on another Bethabela short fic for Femslash Feb! Enjoy a snippet:

A sound in the corridor behind her made Bethany jump and she hastily folded the letters and slid the precious bundle into her pocket again. The sound was of heavy boots, and she did her best to calm her racing heart as they approached, folding her hands and bowing her head in prayer.

"Here is the Chapel, Revered Mother, as you requested."

Bethany's head shot up. That was Carver's voice. She looked back over her shoulder to see his short cropped hair peeking from between the massive pauldrons of his Templar armor. He was flanked by another Templar and between them stood a woman dressed in the customary white and red garb of the Chantry, including the impressive headpiece that marked her as a Revered Mother. She saw the second Templar notice her and swiveled back around, returning to her feigned prayer with her heart pounding in her throat.

"Hey, you, mage." He called to her. "Clear out."

"That isn't necessary." The woman spoke, voice velvety and soft. Bethany's heart nearly stopped. She knew that voice, and it was decidedly not that of a priest. "She can remain as I perform the blessing. As long as she can remain quiet while I work."

Silence followed this statement and Bethany belatedly realized that she was meant to respond. "Yes," she squeaked. "I can be quiet."

"You see, Sers? She won't be any trouble. Now please, leave me to my work."

"As you say, Revered Mother." Carver replied. "We will keep the halls clear until you have finished, as ordered."

"Thank you graciously, Sers. Blessings of the Maker go with you."

The loud stomping and clanging of iron boots signalled the departure of the Templars, but Bethany held her breath, eyes squeezed shut and hands clasped tightly against her brow until the sound faded into nothing. Then she sprang to her feet, fearing she had misheard or misremembered, that her hope was a lie based on longing.

"Hello Sweetness." Isabela's shapely lips curled into a smug smirk. "It's been a while."

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Bethany Hawke/Isabela, background Fenris/Hawke Rating: T Notes: Please applaud my restraint I wAITED until I was done with this whole thing before I posted it!  THis is possibly because I was in the wilderness and also assaulted people with previews they did not ask for BUT!!!  Thanks to @rocket2saturn for introducing me to the beauty of Bethabela, feeding me ideas for this fic, and generally enabling my DA2 trashfire!

It's not so bad.

That's what she tells herself.  Repeatedly, under her breath, throughout the day and late into the night—her own personal prayer.  It's not so bad.  It could have been much worse.

Sometimes, late at night when she can't sleep, she wishes Hawke had taken her along to the Deep Roads. Resents being left behind, a little. Maybe a lot.

Her older sister wouldn't have let the templars take her, not in a million years, not over her dead body, that's what she'd always said.  People listen to Hawke.  One can say as he pleases about her character, but people listen to her, or they wish they had.  That's what she's always thought, anyway.  Or believed. Or hoped.

Thanks to @armoredinmoonlight and @mylosingdogs for cheerleading and beta reading 🥰

Flotsam & Jetsam

Isabela sauntered over - Maker, she always sauntered, didn't she? - a bottle of amber liquor in her hand.

"Thought you could use a drink."

Bethany paused for a moment - she hadn't had a drink since, when? Chateau Haine, probably - before accepting the bottle.

"You thought right." She took a swig, grimacing at the bitter, astringent taste.

"Out of practice?"

"Contraband," Bethany said, raising the bottle and taking another drink before handing it back to Isabela.

"To contraband, then," Isabela raised the bottle in turn.

They drank in silence for a while, looking out at the red haze that coloured the skyline even as the city itself sunk out of view.

"Maker," Bethany said, "What a mess."

"Mmm," Isabella agreed. "But you're free now." She turned as she spoke, leaning against the railing with her back to the open ocean.

Bethany thought on this a moment.

"Am I?"

"Are you what, sweetness?"

"Free."

Isabela looked at her contemplatively, head cocked to one side.

"Freedom is what you make of it," she said, with that almost infuriating simplicity of hers, before taking another swig from the bottle and passing it to her. "So. What would you make of it?

Read here: