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Title: Normal
Author: queen-scribbles
Game: Dragon Age Origins
Characters/Pairings: Leliana, Jowan, f!Cousland(rogue), Alistair; tiniest hints of Leliana/Jowan toward the end
Disclaimer: Dragon Age world and characters belong to BioWare, not me, and this is written strictly for enjoyment
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Three nights. It took three nights of waking in a cold sweat, her dreams too closely resembling her past, before Leliana decided maybe she needed to tell somebody. And another two to work up the courage.

When she did find the nerve to cross the short distance between their tent and push out the words I need to talk to you, Jowan instantly marked his page, closed the spellbook, and gave her his full attention. Moved--and slightly overwhelmed--by his reaction, she plunged into the story of her past as a bard. She didn't glaze over any of what she'd done, or her relationship with Marjolaine, or the love she'd felt for the older woman and the ease with which Marjolaine manipulated her, used her, betrayed her. Somewhere around the dagger sinking into her gut and her being left to the (non-existent) mercies of Captain Raleigh, Jowan almost hesitantly covered her hand with his, his eyes saying I'm sorry even if his lips couldn't form the words. She turned her hand over and linked her fingers between his as she continued.

She did skim a little over the torture. Raleigh had been a creative, sadistic man, and she no more needed to relive all he'd done than Jowan needed to hear it. So she left it at a mention and hurried on to Dorothea's rescue. But even her brief mention elicited a sympathetic hand squeeze. But he still didn't say a word. Not as she recounted the escape, or Dorothea's pep talk, or the revenge she and Silas and Sketch had sought.

"But she got away," Leliana sighed at the end of her tale. "I let her live. And... went back to Dorothea and joined the Chantry. I've spent my time since trying to be a better person. And I hope you don't think less of me now that you know this."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, there," Jowan murmured. "I'm more speechless that you would trust me with this than anything else. I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you," she whispered, squeezing his hand back. It felt like a weight off her shoulders to tell someone, and for that someone to treat it with solemnity and care... it meant more to her than she could put into words.

"It's what friends are for," he whispered back. "And thank you for trusting me. I'll be sure to return the favor sometime soon."

"You don't have to-"

"But I want to. Not now, but... soon," he finished lamely. They sat in silence until the moment bordered on awkward, and then Jowan straightened, eyes brightening. "I have something for you, by the way."

"Do tell." She tried to downplay her rising curiosity and hide the sense of inexplicable loss when he let go of her hand to lean back inside his tent.

"I've been working on it since we left the Dalish," Jowan explained, voice muffled by the tent until he emerged with his sketchbook in hand. "Some of the details were hard, but I really wanted it to look right." He slid a loose sheet of vellum out from just inside the front cover. "Here."

"Ooo!" Her eyes lit up, melancholy fading as she accepted the picture. "It's the tree! Thank you!" She hadn't exactly hidden how charmed she'd been by the Rhyming Oak in the Brecilian Forest, but the amount of detail in the sketch was almost unbelievable. Just the thought he had put that much effort into something for her... She hugged him, ignoring the brief flinch before he hugged her back. "I love it. Any particular reason, or is it just because?"

"Just 'cause," Jowan replied as they sat back. "I mean, I think we're somewhere near a month since Marta conscripted me, but it's just a thank you. For being my friend at a point when the world and I were in agreement I didn't deserve one."

"You and the world were wrong," Leliana retorted, still grinning at the drawing.

"And you were the only one to call me on it. You were kind. You cared. And this is just one small part of me beginning to return the favor."

"Jowan, this must've taken hours; I would hardly call it small," she protested, looking at him.

"You were a large contributing factor to saving my life," he countered. "Compared to that? Pretty damn small."

"Alright, I'll give you that one. But I'm not looking to be repaid for my friendship," Leliana pointed out.

"I know," he assured her. "Think of it as a reminder that I'll be there for you like you've been there for me."

"That I can do," she nodded, still smiling as she gave him a peck on the cheek and rose to head back to her tent. She'd known trusting him would be a good move. That night she slept better than she had in almost a full week.

<><><><>

The timing of their conversation proved to be almost fortuitous. They were ambushed the next day, just a couple hours shy of exiting the Brecilian Forest. It was the perfect place for it, Jowan had to admit; hills on either side of the narrow path both corralled them and provided the attackers a good vantage point, said path was winding enough to make a snake jealous, and at one point even crossed over a small rocky stream before doubling back to climb the hill where some of their attackers stood.

"Watch out!" Leliana yanked him to the side and an arrow snapped against the rocky embankment that had been behind his head a few seconds before.

"Alistair, Leliana, you try to make your way across that bridge and up," Marta instructed rapidly, drawing her daggers as more of the bandits emerged from the surrounding woods. "Jowan and I will deal with this lot."

"Right," the warrior nodded, raising his shield to deflect another arrow. "Come on, Leliana."

The battle was brief but fierce, and it was killing him that the windy nature of the path meant their only clue as to Alistair and Leliana's progress was the cries of warning or triumph or pain--and what sounded like an explosion at one point.

"Focus!" Marta hissed when that distracted him, even as she gutted the assassin trying to take advantage of Jowan's lack of concentration.

"Sorry." He froze a looming warrior and two trailing rogues with a blast of magic, brittle enough the warrior shattered when Marta slammed her daggers against him. Jowan had just flung a stonefist at one of the rogues when an arrow came whistling down from the hill and--more by luck than any talent of the bowman responsible--buried itself in his arm just above the elbow.

His cry of pain was more instinct than anything else. It hurt, yes, but far less than stabbing through his own hand. He winced but waved Marta off when she raised an eyebrow in concern. I'll be fine. Gritting his teeth, he snapped off the shaft so it wouldn't catch on anything. Another arrow twanged into the ground near his feet, and in frustration he lobbed another fist-sized lump of rock toward the archer responsible.

It shattered on the outcropping below her feet, but before she could nock another arrow, an unfamiliar voice rang out. "HOLD!"

All of the surviving bandits froze instantly. A man in gleaming silverite armor appeared at the crest of one hill, a dagger held to his throat.

"You heard him, no?" Leliana called out, arm firm around the leader's neck. "Now drop your weapons!"

Even as they obeyed, Marta and Jowan made their way along the path and up the hill. Alistair was keeping an eye on the surviving archers when they made it, and Leliana was still holding her dagger to the leader's throat.

"Any particular reason you made this call?" Marta asked, jaw noticeably tightening when she saw the bard's newly-acquired black eye, the fresh gash across Alistair's forehead, and the mildly singed state of their armor.

"Look at their weapons, their armor, their tactics," Leliana replied. "These are not common bandits. I thought you might want to find out who they are."

Marta nodded and locked eyes with the leader. "Well?"

"Well, for started, I'm someone who regrets takin' you lot on," he answered ruefully. "Knew you'd be trouble, but not that much..."

"Why did you, then?" Alistair demanded.

"We had orders," the man retorted, trying to shift so Leliana's blade wasn't quite so tight against his throat. "Kill the red-haired girl, and do as we pleased with the rest."

"Kill the..." Leliana's grip slacked for a second in surprise. "Who's trying to kill me?!"

He gagged as she refreshed her hold. "I dunno, I swear! But I have the address where we was s'pposed to report when we were done. You can go find out for yourself!"

"Your life for the information, then," she hissed, eyes dark and almost frantic as they met Jowan's. In that instant, he knew what she feared, and how badly.

"Done. And we won't attack you no more," the leader promised, cautiously and gratefully fishing a slip of parchment free of a belt pouch. "Here."

Leliana let him go and snatched the parchment away from him. "Go, quickly. And it we ever see you again, you are dead, no?"

"Oh, you won't," he repeated, gesturing to his surviving men. "Come on, boys. We're getting out of here."

As they limped off out of view. Marta turned to Leliana. "Who the blazes would want to kill you?!"

"Marjolaine," Leliana replied wearily, unfolding the parchment and glancing over it. "This is in Denerim."

"Leliana. Who's Marjolaine?" Marta pressed.

"Someone from my past. I can give you more details, but shouldn't we head back to camp first? They're both bleeding, and the way you're holding your arm makes me think it should be seen to, no?"

"Fine. But I do want more details," Marta insisted. It was hard to argue with Alistair's head wound, or the blood slowly soaking Jowan's sleeve, but she was obviously curious. "Maybe you can talk as we walk?"

"I... I can do that," Leliana nodded, looking resigned. "I might even finish before we get to camp."

"It'll be a distraction from the pain," Alistair joked, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

She smiled briefly. "I suppose it will." The version she shared as they walked was shorter and less detailed than what she'd told him; Marjolaine simply a former bard master and lover who framed her for treason. It was still enough for Marta to suggest they head to Denerim to confront Marjolaine.

<><><><>

Leliana thought she might cry. Jowan's reaction to her past--game acceptance and showing he still cared--had been one thing. Marta offering to detour in exactly the opposite direction they needed to go... What did I do to deserve this? "It... would probably be a good idea," she admitted. "Marjolaine was always... persistent. If we don't face her, she will simply keep sending more men after us."

"Then off to Denerim we go." Marta rose, rolling her shoulder to alleviate residual stiffness from popping it back in joint. "After a good night's sleep, of course."

"Oh, of course," Leliana agreed, dazed. Needing something else to focus on, she turned her attention to Jowan. The poor man was trying to bandage his own arm. It would have been enough of a chore were he able to do it with his good hand, having to do it with the stiffer left hand meant all he was accomplishing was worrying a pretty serious bit mark into his lower lip. "Let me help."

"Gladly." He relinquished the clumsily rolled bandages with a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"I need the distraction," she shrugged, checking the wound to make sure it was cleaned before she began wrapping the bandages around his arm. "I seem to do this for you a lot."

He blushed a little at the joke. "Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize, Jowan," Leliana shook her head. "I don't mind."

"Mm. You doing alright?"

She focused intently on tying off the bandages. "Well as can be expected, knowing that soon I'll be facing off with someone I loved. Someone who betrayed me." She tried to smile, but could tell it didn't reach her eyes. "My stomach's in knots."

As she dropped her hands, he rested his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "You know we'll watch your back, right?"

She nodded against his shoulder.

"You know I'll watch your back, right?"

"Because that what friends are for, no?" she whispered.

"Exactly."

<><><><>

The journey to Denerim was subdued. Wynne and Sten were less than happy to be going the wrong way again, Zevran seemed to have doubts about the face a master bard head on plan, but everyone kept their thoughts to themselves, and Jowan was even quieter than usual. Marta delegated Wynne as temporary leader while she helped Leliana with her problem. "Alistair, Jowan, you're with us. The rest of you, go with Wynne to find lodging. We'll probably wind up spending at least one night here."

They went their separate ways, Leliana guiding their group off the slip of parchment. Finally, they stood outside the rickety door of the ambushers' contact. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders. And pushed the door open.

The waiting and extremely hostile guards they had expected. That fight didn't last long, even with the close quarters hampering Leliana's use of her bow. But next came Marjolaine. Seeing her again--seeing her free--made Leliana's stomach twist with a combination of anger and fear even as the woman tried to talk circles around them. The redhead swallowed hard, one hand curling into a fist. Jowan saw and shifted his weight so his shoulder brushed hers. One side of her mouth twitched in a half-smile. She took a deep breath and spoke.

"She cannot be trusted, Warden. She is too paranoid to stop."

"Well, then." Marta smiled thinly. "I suppose there's only one course of action."

Marjolaine matched the smile with one of her own. "Oh, my dear, sweet Leliana. I made you. I can unmake you just as easily!"

They all spread out as Marjolaine signaled for the reinforcements waiting in the side rooms. Leliana's hands trembled slightly as she targeted one of the mages, but even so she dropped the man in one shot and moved her attention to one of the hulking qunari guards. She was vaguely aware of Marta yelling something as Alistair went straight for Marjolaine, but she was too focused on her own target to make out the words.

Said target suddenly lost his balance as the floor turned to ice under his feet, and even as he stumbled, a jet of flame licked at his armor. Leliana finished him off with an arrow to the neck, but when she turned to thank Jowan, his attention was already elsewhere--specifically, helping Alistair take on Marjolaine.

The bard master saw where Leliana's gaze had gone, smiled, and hollered an order at one of her remaining guards. The lanky elf nodded--and headed straight for Jowan. Marta caught him before he got halfway to the mage, however, and slowed him down enough for Jowan to dodge out of the way and take down the elf. One by one the guards fell, until they were all able to focus on Marjolaine.

She was slippery, difficult to pin down, until Leliana got in a lucky shot to her knee. Thus hobbled, it was only a matter of time before they finished her off. Alistair got the honor of the killing blow, his sword sliding almost effortlessly into her chest. Even as Marjolaine let out a weak gasp and coughed up blood, he used his shield to push her off the blade. She collapsed in an undignified heap.

Leliana just stood there for a minute, staring into the empty eyes of the woman she had loved, who had betrayed her, "She's dead." It came out just above a whisper as she felt tension drain from her shoulders. "She..." You're free. Didn't that feel good? Her stomach turned as she realized yes, for part of her at least, that had felt good. "I need a minute."

The others were all looking at her in sympathy, making her wonder just how rattled she looked. But she just turned on her heel and walked out of the house, hands shaking, mumbling something about needing to be alone.

<><><><>

It took two hours for her to finally show up at the inn where they were staying. Not that he'd been keeping an eye out because he was worried or anything.

"You... alright?" Jowan asked, startling the redhead as she leaned back against the door. "Sorry."

Leliana shook her head, eyes closed, and sighed deeply. "I will be. She was... a big part of my life for so long, and with everything she did... it is a little overwhelming to think she is gone, no?"

"I can understand that," he nodded. "You want help with your armor?"

She smiled half-heartedly. "That would be lovely." Her bow and quiver she left in the front room of the suite, with Alistair's sword and shield, and Marta and Zevran's daggers. Jowan didn't say a word as he helped with the harder-to-reach buckles on her leathers. For 'simple' armor, there were a lot of them. Once they'd gotten the leathers off and she'd tugged at her shirt to straighten it, Leliana gave him a more genuine smile. "Thank you. For not pushing."

Jowan shrugged. "We both have a lot on our minds. I figured letting us deal with that was better than trying to pretend everything's normal."

Leliana scoffed. "What even is normal?"

He laughed shortly. "I ever figure that out, I'll let you know."

"I'd appreciate it. And thank you for your help today."

"You're welcome." That's what friends are for. Jowan rubbed the back of his neck, thought the better of the comment he was going to make, and substituted, "Hope you sleep well tonight."

"Me, too," Leliana replied, a distant look in her eyes as he took his leave.

<><><><>

He was hiding something, she could tell. And she didn't need her bard skills to pick up on it, either. Jowan was just lousy at hiding his feelings. So Leliana waited until it was late enough the rest of the party had retired to their rooms and cornered the mage, dragging him out on the balcony that overlooked Denerim. "Out with it."

"Out with what?" he dodged, staring at the skyline.

"Out with why you won't meet my eye, with why you've been quieter than usual lately, why you keep rubbing that scar." She reached over and tugged his right hand away from the dark, ugly line across his left palm. "Talk to me, Jowan."

He sighed, looking miserable but meeting her gaze--if just barely. "I... What Marjolaine did to you, it's too similar."

"To what?"

"...Me." It came out small, almost mousy, and she nearly laughed at the absurdity. 

"Well, that's ridiculous," she shook her head.

"Only because you don't know the full story of what I did," Jowan retorted, and then plunged abruptly into the detailed  version of how he wound up in the Redcliffe dungeons, summing up, "I lied to someone who loved me, used her to accomplish something that benefited me, and left her to face the music while I ran. Seems pretty similar to me."

Leliana was quiet for a long moment, her hands covering his so he wouldn't dig at the scar. That explains a lot. "Jowan... I just have one question, well, two really, but they tie together; do you regret it, and would you do something like that again?" 

"Only with every waking moment, and I'd die first."

"Then you're nothing like Marjolaine," Leliana said simply, squeezing his hands. "She would do it a thousand times without remorse. There may be some surface similarities, but you have a great many good qualities she lacked, no? Starting with a conscience. If anything, I am more in danger of being like her than you."

"Now that's ridiculous," Jowan scoffed. "How are you anything like her?"

"I enjoyed it. When we killed her," she confessed.

"That's just called human nature, Lel," he contradicted, freeing one hand from hers to rub her back. "She used you, betrayed you, left you to die, and then tried to kill you again. Relief and satisfaction that she's gone is normal. It doesn't make you a bad person. You're still one of the best people I know."

"I could say the same about you," Leliana rejoined lightly.

"Then you need to meet more people," Jowan deflected. "There's plenty better."

She just raised an eyebrow skeptically, her free hand braced against the balcony railing behind him.

Subconsciously, almost as if nudged by some outside force, they both rocked forward slightly, leaning close enough she could feel his breath on her cheek.

What are you doing?! a voice screamed in her head. He's your friend, you're still emotionally drained from today, this is a bad idea.

Jowan must've had a similar voice in his head, because even as she pushed off the railing and back, he sidestepped, pulling his hand free of hers, both of them redder than her hair.

"I should get to bed," Leliana mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ears and staring at the floor.

"Me too," Jowan muttered. "G'night." And he vanished back inside at just shy of a run.

Leliana waited a few seconds, one hand curled against her stomach. Where did that come from?! 

The more confusing, heart-twisting question didn't occur to her until she was in bed, listening to Wynne's quiet breathing from across the room.

Why do I regret not going for it?