Dragon Age Kiss β Mourning
[Jowan/Leliana]
It was a secret he would take to his grave, but Jowan sort of hated the Grey Warden mantra.
In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.
It was too grandiose, too all-encompassing, too vague. Maybe that was on purpose. Maybe hating it made him a bad Grey Warden. Maybe Trinne shouldn't have conscripted him. Not that that would improve anything; beyond him possibly being dead so he didn't have to deal with this.
The victory that came at too high a cost. The sacrifice that was too great, too real.
Jowan pressed his right thumb hard into his left palm, but even the sharp twinge of pain from the scar didn't come close to distracting from the ragged ache in his heart. You should have let me do it.
But she hadn't.
"Sorry I've screwed up so much," she'd whispered as they shared watch that last night before the march reached Denerim. He'd mumbled something about Look who you're talking to, and nobody's perfect. If he'd known where that mindset was going to lead, he would have grabbed her shoulders and informed her she had accomplished things beyond anyone's wildest dreams and would continue to do so.
But he hadn't, and now she was dead.
One more way he was a bad friend. One more way it was his fault.
"You should have let me," he whispered, head in his hands and voice rough. He'd already screamed himself hoarse twice.
I'm too selfish to wanna live without you, he could hear her laughing as she said it.
Yes, well, I could say the same, Jowan thought, watching the smoke that drifted over the smoldering city and trying not to look at the tower of Fort Drakon still standing above it. Trying not to slide into the looping memory without much success.
"There you are." Familiar red hair and blue eyes peered around the doorway to where he'd scrunched himself far on the side. "Several people are looking for you, you know," Leliana said, joining him on the ground(knees akimbo, hoping the bench he'd bypassed would block him from view).
"I figured," Jowan said gruffly, swiping at his eyes and hugging his knees into his chest. Of course you were the one to find me. "Why d'you think I'm hiding? I can't..." he shook his head, sniffled. "I can't deal with what they'd want to talk about right now, Leliana, I can't. She.. my best friend is dead."
Something shriveled inside him saying the words. He was grateful she had found him, despite his efforts, as she slipped her hand in his.
"I know," she said quietly. She linked her fingers between his, thumb rubbing the back of his hand. Jowan clung to her, the connection grounding him in the moment rather than memories.
The Archdemon's roar. Trinne at the center of a tightly controlled vortex, screaming defiance as she launched a massive arc of lightning down the dragon's maw.
The blinding flash, the crumpled form, denials already pouring from him as he charged across the roof and dropped to his knees.
"She should have let me." Fresh tears tracked down his cheeks.
Whiskey brown eyes distressingly flat. No twinkle of mirth or spark of temper, no teasing grin to say this was nothing more than history's worst joke he'd yell at her for later. No relief from the nightmare of reality.
"And if you had... been the one to die," there was a noticeable tremor on the words, her grip almost painful around his hand, "she would be the one saying the same, no?"
Jowan laughed bitterly and leaned his head back against the wall. "That's us; peas in a pod, inseparable until we're not, both too selfish by half where the other's concerned, she's just faster and better and had to show me up one last Maker-damned time and I--"
"Hate her a little for it?" Leliana ventured when he cut himself off.
"Never." The word rode a sob up his throat, wavering and breaking as it spilled out. Hate that she'd done it, hate that she beat him to it, yes. But not her, never, ever her. He owed her too much to hate her. A debt he'd never repay, now.
Leliana didn't say anything. Didn't murmured condolences, didn't offer platitudes and he loved her for it more than anything else right now. She was a good friend, she will be missed, she saved lives-- She sat with him and held his hand while he tried to figure out how to breathe around the hole in his chest.
No more late night whispers. No more teasing pokes to his shoulder. No more nudging I think she likes you. No more getting them into trouble and then back out. No more being better. No more boney shoulders thrown back in defiance as she stood between him and danger--whether from Circle bullies or charging hurlocks or the Archdemon itself. No more laughter so hard it ended on a snort, freckles crinkling at the corners of her eyes. No more Trinne.
He didn't know what to do. (Trinne would)
As if sensing the spiral of his thoughts, Leliana squeezed his hand again, then raised it to kiss the back. "What are you thinking?"
"I don't know how to do this without her." The confession was rough, ragged. Small.
Leliana nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I think we're all floundering a little, cherie. But I cannot imagine how much worse it must be for you."
Jowan tried to swallow the lump in his throat. It persisted. "Thank you." He swallowed again, sniffled, swiped at swollen eyes with his free hand. "Who... you said people were looking for me."
She hesitated a beat. "Aside from me... Alistair wanted to talk to you. About Trinne."
Something cold coiled in his gut and he barked a sardonic laugh. "He won't like how that conversation goes."
"Jowan..." Leliana hesitated longer this time, choosing her words. "He loved her too."
"Not enough!" Jowan retorted, the cry somewhere between a snarl and the wail of a wounded animal. He pushed to his feet, joints stiff from how long he'd sat curled in a ball, and staggered to the balcony rail.
"That's unfair-" Leliana began quietly, as she rose to her feet with far more grace.
"I don't care!!" he shouted, the words harsh on his already-raw throat. After what he did to her, he wants to talk. "She loved him more than life itself and he broke her heart, and now my best friend, my sister, is dead-"
"That's hardly Alistair's fault," she cut him off as she joined him, a hand on his shoulder for comfort.
Isn't it? Jowan clenched his jaw, not bothering to wipe away the tears that burned his eyes. She'd cried on his shoulder every night of the march to Redcliffe. It was a contributing factor, at least in his mind. I told her he was going to hurt her.
"Who else?" he asked, rather than argue further.
"There was a servant inquiring what to do with... her things." The comforting hand slid further across his back.
"They can go in my room." A deep, shaking breath. "I should go through them. I can... I can use any lyrium potions she had left, and, um, I want to save her sketchbook." Not that he'd ever be strong enough to look inside, but he couldn't bear the thought of losing it.
Leliana nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "Wynne wanted to see if you were injured."
"Offensively unscathed," Jowan said hoarsely. Leliana's brow furrowed, so he elaborated, "A battle so large, that caused so much death and devastation" --he flung an arm out toward the ruined city-- "and all I have are some bruises."
"Trinne would think that's a good thing," Leliana said gently, her hand now rubbing arcs on his back. Over scars that had sent Trinne into an incandescent, hair-sparking rage. Scars she had never accepted he deserved. "It was always her priority to keep you safe, no?"
"And she did such a good job of it she never will again." The sharp ache in his heart made the words more cutting than he'd meant them.
Something flickered in Leliana's eyes and she leaned in close. "I am glad you are alive, cher cΕur."
Jowan flinched as what the whisper left unsaid hit him. "I-I wouldn't want to hurt you, Leliana," he managed, voice hitching. He turned and clumsily wiped at her tears with his thumb, brushing a light (chaste) kiss to her lips. "I'd hate myself for it. But I don't know what to do without her," he whispered. "She's always been the... the impetus. The driving force of my adventures and my headaches and courage. I... I can't do this."
"Yes, you can," Leliana countered, cradling his face in her hands. "You can, Jowan."
"I can't." He shook his head. "Trinne always had the plan, she led the way in and out of adventure, mischief, trouble... I just followed." In front of anyone else, Jowan might have been embarrassed to be such a miserable mess, but Leliana.... She'd seen him at his worst, worse even than this, and found something worth loving anyway. "I'm the sidekick, Leliana. I'm not s'pposed to.... when I make decisions they go horribly wrong and the consequences fall on the people I care about--"
His stomach roiled at the thought. If he and Lily hadn't roped Trinne into their escape plan, she wouldn't have been a Grey Warden in the first place.
"It's all my fault," he whispered.
"Non," Leliana hissed, her grasp on his jaw tightening to make him meet her gaze. "Do not take her choices from her, Jowan. She knew what she was doing."
"Trinne always makes it up as she goes, you know that," he retorted. She wouldn't have had to if not for me.
"The choices were still hers," Leliana said, soft but firm as she rested her forehead to his. "She knew what she was doing. If you love her, leave her that."
She was right and he knew it. No one could make Trinne Amell do anything she didn't want, and dying to save the world was no different. "I want my best friend back," he mumbled with what might be the last of his voice for Maker only knew how long.
"I would give her to you if I could," Leliana whispered back, letting his tears run over her hands.
And Jowan kissed her as he clung to her, messy and desperate and shaking, hoping it would convey his gratitude, his relief she was here, even while words--and his voice--failed him.
Leliana held him tight and kissed him back, both of them all salt and cinders. But together. Alive. The could deal with the fallout of how later.
In death, sacrifice.
He did hate that mantra, though.
