Do you want to know a secret?

By Silver Hunteress

Warnings: uh, conspiracy to commit murder maybe? Implied female/female relationship

A/N: We all know that Leliana didn't kill Marjolaine when she had the chance, somehow I doubt Sketch was happy about that. It's implied (I think) that Sketch saw Tug get killed and he knows that Tug was deflecting the guards from him, all of that combines to make Sketch one bitter and angsty little elf (extra twitchy too). Also, I adored Sketch, and thought he was wonderful and when only found one fic on the site with Sketch listed as a main character this poured out.

I watched Marjolaine sail away that night with a heavy heart. I followed her to make her pay for what she had done, but in the end…

"I cannot believe you didn't kill her."

I sighed and turned to him pleading, "Sketch…"

"After all this," he was angry, hurt, and this time I had done it, "What she did to all of us, you didn't kill her?" Fire was engulfing his hands but I did not fear that he would attack me. "Tug is dead because of her! I can only imagine what the guards did to you, it's all because of her and she's getting away with it!"

"No! It's because of me." He looked taken aback by my outburst but I pressed on, "I am the one who could not leave well enough alone. I am the one who insisted we go back. If I had not looked at those papers…" I shook my head, "If I had trusted her none of this would have happened."

His eyes darkened even more, I braced myself, but his voice was unexpectedly soft, "It would have happened later."

Surprised, I glanced up, "Sketch?"

He sighed, "You heard what she said, Leliana, she expected you to betray her anyway, so she did it first, if not here and now, it would have happened later, and Dorothea wouldn't have been involved. She wouldn't have been able to help us…"

I smiled at him, it wasn't much of one, I was tired, weary, and joyless, but I had been feeling like a fool and Sketch's words eased that feeling.

His returning smile was more of a grimace, though so at least I wasn't alone on that particular front.

"That doesn't mean I don't understand why she's still breathing though," he reminded me.

"I still love her too much…" I whispered.

"Lucky me, then," he growled, "I don't have that problem." He turned away from me.

"Sketch don't be a fool," I pleaded, "she'll expect it."

He glanced over his shoulder, Tug's ax gleamed in the moonlight from where he had secured it next to his staff, "I'm not stupid enough to go after her now, but believe me, the next time I see her, she's dead." He paused for a moment, "Good luck, Leliana, I don't know what your plans are but I know I'm not in them."

"Keep your head down, Sketch. Stay safe."

He chuckled, "You don't have to tell me twice."

I had watched my lover sail away that night, but the strange thing is: I think watching Sketch walk away, that skittish and shy young man, tall and taut with anger, hurt more.