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allisondraste · 5 years

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Temperance (29/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary: Nathaniel loses his cool.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

[AO3 LINK]

Denerim, 9:31 Dragon

“Thank you for coming to meet with me again,” Anora said politely as Nathaniel entered her study, and used every ounce of his willpower to hide his annoyance at her unfortunate timing.

“It is my pleasure, your majesty,” he stated, forcing a smile and closing the door behind him.

So close. He’d been so close to finally saying everything he’d wanted to say to Liss for the past—what was it now? Seventeen years?— to explaining to her why he hadn’t written, to apologizing for having his head up his own arse. He had no idea how she’d take it all, but that moment in the market, when she’d looked at him as she had the night before he left Highever that last time, gave him hope. It also gave him every reason to resent that he was standing in the queen’s office rather than Liss’ quarters.

“You need not flatter me, Nathaniel,”Anora answered with a smirk, motioning for him to sit. He had forgotten that he’d even flattered her.

He sat down in the chair across from her desk and crossed his arms. “What is it that you need, your majesty?”

Anora bit her lip and exhaled an uncharacteristically shaky breath. “I am certain you are aware of the upheaval the Grey Wardens’ actions in Amaranthine have caused.”

“Better than most, I’m sure.”

“More specifically, the discontent with the current arlessa,” she explained, “There is… concern that she is acting out of her own interests.”

Nathaniel laughed irreverently. “Lucia? With all due respect, your majesty, if setting herself on fire could have saved Amaranthine, she would have done so long before she torched the city.”

“I am familiar enough with the Warden-Commander to know this; however, my council is… unconvinced. The people of Amaranthine are unconvinced.”

“I figured as much,” he sighed, “Let me guess: They are all very concerned about my presence as well.”

“Hardly, although Eamon insists on playing that card,” she remarked with a bitter laugh, “Arl Bryland has suggested that the arling be returned to your family.”

Nathaniel blinked a few times as if it would help him to hear the words better. “What? ” He laughed. “I find that incredibly difficult to believe. My uncle has no love for my family.”

“Perhaps not,” Anora admitted,”And that is not why he made the suggestion.”

“Then why?”

“Despite the fallacy of the claims, there are many in Ferelden who still believe that the Wardens are responsible for the losses at Ostagar. Even those who don’t are concerned with the growing political power of a formerly exiled Order, one that claims to be without political affiliation. It is causing a level of unrest with which I am uncomfortable.”

Nathaniel leaned forward. “I see your point, but… I am a Warden. Transferring the arling to me would not make a difference.”

“That is why I intend to give it to Delilah,” Anora said with a knowing smile, “What do you think?”

A weight fell from his shoulders and his chest swelled. It made so much sense. Delilah was brilliant and responsible. As far as he knew, she managed affairs in Amaranthine to the best of her ability while father played his games. Not to mention it would put the necessary distance between the Wardens and any sort of political authority. “I think that it is a brilliant idea.”

“It is my hope that her taking the title of Arlessa will settle the voices of dissenters, and I am certain she will be sympathetic to the Warden cause, allowing them—you—to maintain a stronghold at Vigil’s Keep.”

Nathaniel nodded, but remembered his sister’s flight from Ferelden with her merchant husband and the baby she carried, and frowned. It seemed cruel and unfair to ask her to leave the quiet life she now had, a life that was desirable to petty Fereldan politics. Yet, there were no other viable options. Tom was, for all intents and purposes, deceased, and Nathaniel had gotten himself conscripted into the very order that the nobility mistrusted. Once again, Delilah’s peace and happiness would be sacrificed because he failed to be the big brother she deserved.

“You appear concerned,” Anora remarked matter-of-factly, snapping him from his ruminations.

He laughed, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Delilah is going to hate this. She was finally happy.”

“I know. I am sorry.” She paused and sighed. “Do you think she will still accept, if asked.”

“Without question.” He nodded his head affirmatively.

“Good. I shall send word to her as soon as I can.” She flashed a brief smile that held only sympathy for the decision she had to make. “Thank you, Nathaniel. That will be all.”

“Yes, your majesty,” he answered quickly, standing and bowing his head before exiting the room.

Just stepping outside the study, hearing the door click behind him as the hallway extended in front of him, his pulse jumped. Nothing stood in the way of his confession to Liss now, and nothing excused him from it. He had never been more ready for anything in his life, and yet he felt completely unprepared. He knew he should just do it, but convinced himself that it would help him to read his letter he wrote to her one last time, as if he could forget what it said.

Reaching into his pack, he pulled out the small envelope, removed the parchment, and unfolded it. His heart sank at the first words on the page. “Dear Tom” was not his letter to Liss. Then where—

“Shit,” he muttered, and shoved the letter back in its envelope. He turned down the corridor that led to the main hall, rather than continuing to the guest wing. Taking both envelopes with him had been a horrible decision among a million other horrible decisions that now replayed themselves in his mind.

It had only been an hour or so since Nathaniel stood in the Market District with Liss, and it seemed a different place entirely. It was much louder, busier, as people pushed past one another, bumping shoulders and grumbling. He wove his way through groups of chattering people, muttering “excuse me’s” and apologies, until he reached the wooden door to the smithy. It was an odd trade for a former Antivan Crow, but the woman called Bria still seemed to be quite adept at blacksmithing. If earlier events were any indication, she knew Liss as well.

He pushed the door open quickly, a wave of heat smacking into his face, and warming the tip of his chilled nose. At the forge, Bria stopped her work and looked up at him with an enormous smile filled with mischief.

“Ah,” she exclaimed, “I knew you would be back.”

“You knew?

“Mhmm.” She walked away from the forge and moved behind the counter, bending down, and popping back up with a familiar envelope held loosely between her fingers. “I do not think this is the letter you want to send to your Thomas.”

Nathaniel’s face grew warm in such a way that he knew it was not from the forge. “You read it?”

“Of course not.” She turned the envelope so that he could see the front, lips turning up into a small smirk. “It is addressed to Lady Elissa. You were quite flustered when she walked in, yes?”

“I suppose I was,” he admitted, unable to hide the undoubtedly ridiculous smile that spread across his face. “That would explain why I gave you the wrong letter.”

He took Liss’ letter from Bria’s hand, tucking it firmly into his coat, and giving her the letter intended for Tom. She snatched it playfully and eyed him with a perplexed expression, clicking her tongue.

“What,” he asked, frowning at her.

“It seems to me that you should be doing much more than writing her letters,” she said, with a wink, before bending down to place Tom’s letter under the counter.

“Why would you think that?”

Bria chuckled knowingly and raised back up, leaning forward so that her elbows were on the countertop. “You love her. It is written all over your pretty face.”

“You are perceptive.”

“In my profession, being perceptive is imperative.”

“Blacksmithing?” Nathaniel quirked an eyebrow up at her and smirked.

“Blacksmithing,” she replied with a nod and another mischievous smile.

There was a brief moment of silence between them and he cleared his throat to speak. “I should… head back to the castle.”

“You should.” Bria grinned broadly, eyes glimmering with amusement.

He nodded, ignoring the heat that still lingered in his face and the sinking pit in his stomach as he left the shop and made his way to the castle.

Nathaniel returned to the guest wing, pausing briefly to pull the letter from his coat and read his own words again, a reminder of all that he wanted to say. It did nothing to ease his anxiety, of course, and he knew there was only one solution. She was just down the hall, in her quarters, and no doubt tired of waiting for him. It would be as quick as knocking on her door and as painless as swallowing his pride.

The door to her quarters looked just as the doors to any of the other rooms, just as his own guest room. There was nothing special about the door, other than who lay beyond it. He laughed at the thought of all the times she’d shown up at his door during their childhood. How she’d seemingly given no second thought to rapping out a rhythm with her knuckles. If only he were so uninhibited.

Willing his hand to the smooth, wooden surface, he knocked three times. There was no answer, but the door moved under his touch. It had not even been closed all the way. He pushed it open hesitantly. “Liss?”

Liss didn’t answer, but he caught a glimpse of her as he peered past the door and into the room. She lay face down on the bed, a mass of blond curls springing up from the pillow. He entered the room completely and approached her, noticing how her body rose and fell with each slow breath. Her head was turned to the side, so that her face was visible past a lock or two of hair. Her lips twitched as well as did her hand that lay on the pillow next to her face. The sheets and coverlet were a bundled mess around her, undoubtedly failing at their function of keeping her warm.

Nathaniel bent down and took hold of the covers, straightening them out, and pulling them up to cover Liss’ nearly-bare arms. As he did so, something on her shoulder caught his eye. In a spot where her hair had conveniently parted , just near the curve of her neck was a long, deep mark, a scar left by a sword or an axe. No matter how he tried to avoid the image of her wounded, bleeding, stumbling about to escape her own home, he couldn’t. He ached at the thought of how alone she must have felt in that moment, how afraid. If only he had been there.

Liss roused slightly and rolled beneath the blankets. Her eyes flickered open, barely, and she looked up at him. “Nate?” Her voice was hoarse, heavy with sleep.

“It’s me,” he whispered, reaching out to brush one of her wild curls from her face, “Go back to sleep. We can talk later.”

She smiled, groggily, eyes fluttering shut as she brought her hand up to cover his. A soft chuckle escaped him and he allowed his hand to linger on her cheek for a moment before pulling away. If he’d ever been uncertain of his feelings for her, that small exchange would have him convinced. Maker, he was hopeless.

He turned to exit the room, pulling the door closed as gently as he could so as to not wake her again. It was only early evening, and a large part of him wanted her to be awake. It was an impatient thought, a selfish one, and he refused to give in to it. The woman hadn’t slept much at all the night before, and he would not disturb her.

Nathaniel walked back down the hall, passing his own room, and heading toward Lucia’s. He had not spoken with the Warden-Commander since the night before, and she’d been rather upset. He worried for her, and thought to check in. It would pass the time and give him a chance to break the news to her about Amaranthine if she did not already know.

When he reached Lucia’s room, he stopped at the door and knocked. There were noises of someone fumbling about on the other side, and then the door swung open.

“Nathaniel,” she said, eyes widening as if startled to see him.

“Busy?”

“No.” She shook her head and opened the door further. “Come in.”

He entered the room and waited for Lucia to close the door and return. She sat down gently in a sturdy wooden chair by the fireplace, and motioned for him to sit in one of the other available chairs near her. He did so, watching as she fidgeted in her seat uncharacteristically.

“Have you spoken with Queen Anora, yet,” she asked.

“I have. I had wondered if you knew about her plans for my sister.”

“I do,” she said, blinking as she gazed into the fire, “To be quite honest, I am relieved. This is far beyond what I signed up for when I joined the Wardens.”

“And what exactly did you sign up for?”

“Freedom,” Lucia remarked, bringing her sharp eyes to meet his, “I was conscripted after I attempted to escape Kinloch Hold with a friend of mine and his lover. We were caught, and in his desperation he used blood magic to flee. The Templars wanted to make me Tranquil or execute me for ‘conspiring with a blood mage.’ I would be dead—or worse— if it were not for the Grey Wardens.”

“I had… no idea.”

“I don’t talk about it much. Those are not my favorite memories,” she explained, “Needless to say, I am more than happy to give up my title to your sister. From what I know of her, she will be a far better arlessa than I could ever hope to be.”

Nathaniel offered her a smile, and nodded, unable to find any words that felt appropriate for the circumstances. Lucia appeared to accept the gesture, and turned her eyes back to the dancing flames under the mantle. After several moments of silence passed between them, he brought himself to speak again. “I actually came to see how you are today. I know that you were rather upset when we spoke last night.”

Lucia heaved a heavy sigh and the hint of a smile curved at the edges of her mouth. “I’m all right, I suppose.”

“Better than last night?”

“Definitely.” She nodded. “I took some time to think about what you and I discussed. I gave myself permission to be angry, and then the anger dissipated.”

“Sometimes that is all it takes.”

“I am still hurt, of course. I think I will be hurt for a long time,” she explained, wringing her hands in her lap, “That does nothing to change my feelings for Alistair. We’ve never been perfect, but we’ve survived so much together. Certainly we can solve this as well.”

“What are Alistair’s feelings on the matter,” Nathaniel asked, hoping his question was not too intrusive.

To his relief, she did not seem offended, and turned to look at him again as she answered. “He thinks we need to talk more about what happened between us, to process it all. I’d rather not have to.” She laughed dryly. “He’s probably right, isn’t he?”

Nathaniel laughed in return. “Unfortunately, I believe he is.”

As their conversation died down, a tense silence stretchedl between them, and he watched as Lucia returned to fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair. Her brow furrowed deeper and deeper and she trained her eyes so intently on the grey stone floor before them, that he began to wonder if she was attempting to count the bricks. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it promptly as Lucia looked up at him again.

“I spoke with Elissa,” she stated quickly, as if she could not get the words past her lips fast enough.

He flinched. ‘You...did?”

“Yes. I was curious to meet her, to see what she is like.” She paused and eyed him knowingly. “She is very beautiful, isn’t she?”

Nathaniel froze, unable to utter anything more than an “Um,” past the lump in his throat.

“It is a fact, Nathaniel,” Lucia said, offering him a smirk before she rose to her feet and began to pace about, “Just as it is a fact that she is intelligent, strong, and compassionate.”

“I certainly think so,” he managed to say, observing her as she chewed on her bottom lip.

“I can see why you care for her,” she admitted, “I can see why Alistair does.”

“Lucia, is there any reason why you’re telling me all of this?” The words sounded more irritated than he intended them to.

She snapped her head back to look at him, then slowly turned her gaze back to the fire before falling back into the chair where she’d previously been sitting. She sat in silence for several moments before closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, and speaking. “She asked to join the Wardens.”

“ What, ” he asked, certain that there was no way he heard her properly.

“I know,” Lucia stated somberly, “I was surprised myself. She is certainly capable, but it makes no sense to me why someone of her status would want to join us.

“Typical Liss, honestly,” he laughed briefly, “How did she take it when you told her no?”

“I…”

“Please tell me you told her no.” Nathaniel’s heart fell to his stomach at the hesitation.

“I cautioned her against it, but she seems very determined.” Lucia’s voice trembled as she spoke, and Nathaniel almost felt bad for the anger that bubbled in his chest at her words. “We only have seven wardens in Ferelden. It would be foolish to refuse a willing recruit.”

“I understand, I do,” he said as calmly as he could, though his own shaky words betrayed him, “Recruit anyone else in this whole blighted country, but not her. Please. I am asking you, as your friend, to tell her no.”

Lucia stiffened, straightening her posture before she spoke again, poised as ever. “And I am telling you, as your commanding officer, that I can’t do that. I am sorry, but —”

“Of course you are, commander ,” he interrupted her with pointed words, “But you will have to forgive me if I don’t accept it. It certainly does not change my objection to this decision of yours.”

Lucia just watched him intently, expression unchanging. “I do not need your approval.”

“Then why bother telling me,” he asked desperately.

“Because I respect you, and I thought you deserved to know,” she stated, voice more forceful, “I thought you would understand my reasoning.”

“Logic and reason don’t make a decision right,” Nathaniel snapped, “You always argue rationality, and then wear your apologies like they are a suit of armor against the consequences of those decisions. Tell me, if any of those justifications were truly justifications, if your apologies helped anything, then would you still hate yourself so much?”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. He regretted them even more at the sight of utter betrayal on the young woman’s face. She was doing her best. She was doing what she thought was right. She had relied on his support, and now he’d turned on her completely. And why? Because he was angry? Scared? Pathetic.

“You have supported every one of my decisions until now,” she bit back, clearly struggling to keep the tears from her eyes.

“I have, but that does not mean I will support everything you do unflinchingly,” he argued, “I understand why you would believe recruiting Liss is a good decision. It is a good decision, objectively, but my feelings aren’t objective. If she fails the Joining, that blood will be on you and your hands alone.”

He clearly intended to burn ever bridge he’d built between he and Lucia to the ground in a matter of minutes. He was too furious to care, too terrified to think of anyone but himself.

“Nathaniel, I—“

He waved his hand dismissively and stood up. “You know what? Forget it. I know you won’t change your mind.”

Lucia’s face hardened, settling into an icy, neutral expression. “Very well.”

There was a heavy, painful silence until Nathaniel spoke again. “By your leave, Commander.”

She nodded slowly, and he turned abruptly and stomped out the door.

In the hallway, Alistair approached Lucia’s quarters. He hummed some Chantry hymn and twirled a rose between his fingers. He looked up just in time to see Nathaniel storm out. Waving genially, he said, “Oh, hi Nathaniel.”

“Go soak your head,” Nathaniel grumbled as he brushed past Alistair without so much as making eye contact. It was not his best moment.

As he continued on down the hall, he heard the other man whine sarcastically, “But that would mess up my hair.”

Under normal circumstances, Nathaniel would have laughed, replied with a good natured barb, and apologized for being rude. These were not normal circumstances, and so continued on without so much as a word. He had already said enough.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #nathaniel howe #nathaniel howe x cousland #cousland #temperance #update #my writing

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hungergames-fanfic · 5 years

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Big Announcement

Word count: 880

Delilah was running away from the careers, they were laughing and she was screaming. She went underneath a bed and found a vent that took her out to an empty hallway. In there, she got up quietly and startled walking real slow cause if the house hears you, it finds a way to get you.

It’s alive, I just know it.

Just seconds before I looked up at the television I was staring at Sarbia, the girl who sits in front of me. She had a fly on her hair and for not another second, it flew off her head and away. This is why I looked up. I wish I hadn’t.

Delilah made a floor board creek. Just like her, the whole class froze. Myself included.

From the opposite ends of the hallway two poles with big blades that swung like a helicopter’s started zooming towards her. She ain’t move a hair, just watched them blades come at her. I almost wanted to scream at her to run but I just watched knowing she wasn’t gonna hear me. The blades cut her face, throat, chest, body, everything. Her blood was spilling out like water on a hose with holes in it. She was torn and I could see her liver halfway out a slash on her stomach so big it looked like she’d been cut in half.

Her body was on the tv for very little but it’s like when you stare at a second on a clock and it lasts longer than the other seconds. It was enough for me to see every detail possible.

Momma Bilmin puts a plate of potatoes, chicken and rice in front of me. She’s been tryna get me to eat meat again but I’ve said it once, I’ll say it twice. I’m never eating meat in my life ever again, never ever! Not since I found out who we’ve been eating.

My food’s dirty now, so I look right at her and push the plate away but she doesn’t notice. This makes me even more mad.

The dining room table is different from the breakfast table. This one is for eight people, that one is for four. On this table we don’t eat unless it’s a special occasion. I sit at the edge of the table next to momma who sits at the end. In front of me is daddy and he hasn’t stopped smiling at momma all night. His elbow rests on the table and he leans his head on his hand just staring at her with a goofy smile. Momma grabs his hand. This makes me mad too.

What’s making them so happy? There should be nothing making them smile, specially when Eddy is fighting to stay alive in the games.

“Elbows on the table?”, grandma Ester snorts and shakes her head. She’s sitting on my opposite end and grandpa Alvaro shushes her. Daddy doesn’t notice but I do and I’m one more scoff away from telling her to shut up, too.

Next to daddy sits uncle Beriah who thanks momma Bilmin for his plate of food. At the edge sits aunt Lucia with fat Ignacio on the corner sitting on a plain breakfast table chair. I hope he’s uncomfortable. I’m mad at him cause he broke all my crayons.

All I said was he’s so fat he ain’t got a neck, how is he gonna be mad at a fact?

Everybody eats but me, I just play with my food until momma touches my arm. “Polomir and I have some to say”, she smiles at me and then at everyone else. Daddy still got that stupid smile on his face. It makes me wanna scream at him.

“There’s gonna be a new addition to the family”, momma says biting her lips together. Aunt Lucia shrieks and startles me. I stare at her wide eyed. She stands up and hugs momma swaying from side to side. Grandma Ester touches her chest like she’s gonna cry. Grandpa Alvaro rubs my back smiling with both his eyes and lips. “Dora!”, he hugs my head, “a big sister?”, he chuckles. Uncle Beriah congratulates daddy with a firm handshake.

All the smiles at the table make my face feel hot with anger.

Why would momma and daddy wanna have another baby?

Aren’t I enough?

They ain’t ever talk to me about this and expect me to be okay with it?

Even momma Bilmin is smiling and out of everyone I expected her to be as mad as I am. She hates the Hunger Games and another baby means another name to be added into the pool of names.

“What is 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 with you!?”, I jump out of my seat and slam my hands on the table. Now it’s aunt Lucia staring at me wide eyed. Everyone just stares. The second feels long and an image of Delilah flashes in my mind. I wanna scream in everyone’s faces but instead I just look at momma waiting for her to explain herself.

“Dora?”, momma Bilmin whispers softly. For that same second my body feels light, my eyes and nose tickle and if I wanna talk I’m gonna have to clear my throat but I don’t wanna do that. Instead, when I hear my name, without a word I run to my room and slam the door behind me.

#age 10 #isadora wyetka #polomir wyetka #esperanza wyetka #momma Bilmin #aunt lucia #grandma Ester #grandpa Alvaro #Ignacio #the hunger games imagine #hunger games imagine

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allisondraste · 5 years

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Temperance (21/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Chapter Summary: Did someone say Denerim?

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

Denerim, 9:31 Dragon

It was a day’s journey from Vigil’s Keep to Denerim, far too brief of a journey for Nathaniel to properly untangle his thoughts and consider what he might actually say when he found Liss. That is, if she would hear it. For all the wonderful memories he had of her, the one that planted itself at the forefront of his mind, permanent and painful, was the moment he’d said goodbye. How her tears had dampened his shirt, stubborn arms clinging to him even as he tore himself away. She asked him to write, but he hadn’t. A stupid, selfish choice that he justified because it was the only way he knew how to cope with the emotional equivalent of losing a limb.

“There it is,” Lucia spoke up from beside him following a pensive and shaky sigh and he followed the line of her arm to see the walls of the capital sprawling before them.

Nathaniel nodded, but said nothing. It comforted him, at least, that she looked as apprehensive as he felt. Despite hours on the road together, talking about a great number of things, Lucia had not said a word about what she sought in Denerim. If their conversation on the battlements had been any indication, her circumstances were vaguely similar to his own.

“The last time I traveled to Denerim, it was on fire and under siege by the darkspawn.” She stiffened, fists clenched at her sides. “The archdemon awaited me a the top of Fort Drakon.”

“Let me guess. You expected this time to be easier, but it’s not.”

“I would prefer to face the dragon again, I think.” Lucia gave a sad half-smile, and shook her head. “As ridiculous as that sounds.”

“Facing a dragon is simple, predictable, with a very clear goal,” Nathaniel replied and Lucia eyed him curiously. He continued with a smirk despite her furrowed brows. “It’s much more complicated to face yourself and the consequences of your decisions.”

“It would seem your personal business in the city is such that you would prefer to face a dragon as well,” she stated, astute as ever. He’d expected her to forget that he had his own reasons for the trip. He almost wished she would have.

“I would rather face a legion of dragons,” he admitted with a sigh, and dropped his head. Lucia tapped him briefly on the arm, and he looked up just in time to see her smile and walk past him.

“We’ve prolonged the inevitable long enough,” she said decisively, glancing back at him over her shoulder, “With luck, dragons will swoop down and end our misery.”

Nathaniel snorted gracelessly, following behind her. “I hope you’re joking.”

It was well into the evening when they arrived in the city, vibrant rays of sunset hovering above, and yet Denerim still teemed with life, children running about outside in fur cloaks, breath visible in the air as their parents told them to come inside. The merchants in the square called for their final sales of the evening and began to put away their wares as guards walked about changing shifts and relieving their comrades. The energetic buzz fell silent as Lucia and Nathaniel passed by, children and parents, merchants and guards alike standing as statues with their mouths agape. Cries of “That’s her!” and “The Hero of Ferelden is back!” rang out clearly from the silent crowds, and Lucia just nodded politely before tugging at the hood of her cloak and pulling it up to cover her face.

Anonymity would not be an option for them, it seemed, and Nathaniel began to scan the alleys and tops of buildings for would-be assassins and vigilantes. There were sure to be those who still wished Lucia harm. Nothing suspicious caught his eye, but he remained wary until they reached the palace, but said nothing of his concern for her. She had enough on her mind already. The Queen herself had received news of their arrival, and she waited in the throne room to greet them. He was impressed and appalled by the speed with which word traveled through the capital.

A set of heavy wooden doors opened into the throne room where Anora sat, posture erect and proper, at the far end of the room. She stood when she noticed Nathaniel and Lucia and began to approach them, leaving her guards behind to grumble about her safety. She looked just as she had when they were children, pretty as a flower, but far less delicate. He had never questioned why Liss admired her as she did.

“Warden-Commander,” she exclaimed, “This is a pleasant, if not unexpected surprise.” She paused, her eyes darting toward Nathaniel, an amused expression spreading across her face.

“It has been some time, Your Majesty,” he said fondly.

“Indeed it has.” Anora nodded and looked down, eyes scanning his armor. “You are a Grey Warden now?”

“Apparently,” he answered with a shrug, glancing over at Lucia, “The commander saved me from the gallows. I owe her my life.”

“Don’t we all?” She offered him a sorrowful, understanding smile. Her father was a traitor, too, and she undoubtedly knew all too well what he meant. Anora turned her attention back to Lucia, face hardening. “I presume you did not travel to the capital to exchange pleasantries.”

“No, Your Majesty.” Lucia looked down at the grey stone floor beneath her, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Never before had she seemed so young and inexperienced than she did now standing before the Queen of Ferelden. “I am here to see Alistair.”

Anora frowned, eyes filled with sympathy that crackled in her voice when she spoke. “Alistair is… not in Denerim at the moment.”

“Oh,” Lucia remarked softly, seeming to crumple under the weight of disappointment. Nathaniel didn’t know who Alistair was, but he was clearly important to her, she had built herself up for this moment, and he wasn’t there. He felt for her.

“He and Lady Cousland –” Anora glanced at Nathaniel, with a subtle yet knowing expression– “left for Highever yesterday morning. It was not to be a long trip, but I am not certain when he will return. Of course, you both are welcome to stay in the palace in the meantime.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Nathaniel said, bowing his head briefly, a display of reverence he hoped was suitable to her.

She nodded in response and quickly ordered for servants to show the two of them to their rooms before excusing herself for the evening. Lucia sighed, staring off at the far wall morosely, as they waited.

“Are you all right?” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped slightly before looking at him.

“No,” she answered, voice hoarse and cracking as tears fell from her eyes. “I’m not.”

Nathaniel had never seen the woman cry before, and he was at a loss for how to console her. He settled upon giving her a few gentle pats on the shoulder, letting his hand rest there for a moment. Just as he released her shoulder, Lucia turned suddenly and embraced him tightly, both arms around his waist as she sobbed into his chest. He tensed, shocked by the abrupt and unexpected contact, but eased and returned the hug. He did not need to know her situation to understand how she felt. Liss wasn’t present either, and it was all he could do to hold it together.

By the time Nathaniel saw Lucia again, the next afternoon at an impromptu meeting called by Queen Anora to discuss the situation in Amaranthine, she had completely composed herself and it was as if she were unaffected at all. He didn’t know how she managed. She apologized for her “embarrassing” behavior the night before, and requested that they keep her breakdown between the two of them. He gave her his word, but assured her that she did nothing wrong all the same.

The meeting with the queen lasted just long enough for them to recount the tale of the sentient darkspawn in Amaranthine and explain the decision to torch the city. She agreed that it was a prudent decision, but was uncertain that she could convince the Landsmeet to believe the same. It was not ideal, but it was better than the Wardens having the ire of the crown. When the meeting adjourned, Nathaniel and Lucia both stood and turned to leave.

“Nathaniel,” Anora called out, and he stopped, just as he reached out to pull open the door.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I’d like to speak with you alone for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

Nathaniel looked at Lucia who shrugged, nodded, and exited the room, letting the door close behind her. He walked back toward the center of the room and sat down in a chair directly across from Anora. She pulled open one of the drawers to her desk, took something out of it, and rose to her feet.

“I have some information about your brother,” she stated, her words hesitant.

“I know,” Nathaniel said, dropping his head, “Thomas died at Ostagar.”

Anora’s brows pressed together in a stern expression and she walked around her desk with what appeared to be a sealed envelope in hand. She extended it to Nathaniel. “This is for you.”

Nathaniel blinked, confused, but took the envelope from her hands. It was unaddressed and the seal bore no crest or other insignia. “Whatㄧ”

“You should read it,” Anora urged, and stepped back around to sit behind her desk.

Nathaniel broke open the seal and pulled out what appeared to be a letter addressed to him.

Dear Nate, Surprise! I’m not dead. I know, I know. You aren’t amused, but stop scowling; it’s rude (That’s what Delilah says, isn’t it?). I apologize that things had to be this way, but when I managed to survive Ostagar and when I heard what Father had done, I didn’t want to go back. His was not a legacy I ever wanted, no matter how much he pushed it on me, and I especially want no part in it now. I fled the country and asked Queen Anora for help. She signed off on my death record, so now I’m free.

I am living in Antiva right now, working for some merchant’s guild. As it turns out, I am actually quite good at selling things. Perhaps I’ll make a career of it. Who knows! I’m much more well-suited to it than I ever was to fighting or running an arling. I’d much rather be “common rabble,” as Father would have called it, than to be forced into an oppressive marriage and pretend to be someone who I’m not for the rest of my life.

I’ve stopped drinking. I thought you would be proud of me for that.

I always said that it was just something I did for fun, but Delilah was right. It was how I coped with all of the shit father put us through. I’m not as strong as you or resilient as Delilah, and it was all I knew how to do.

I am happy here, truly. I’ve met people who I trust, and made a few close friends. One of them actually moved to Denerim a few months ago, when the Blight ended. She’s a former assassin fleeing the Crows with the help of some Zevran person. She helped me get my letters to the queen. Bria is her name. I think she’s working as a blacksmith, or something. She did not say exactly when she left. Should you ever need to contact me, you will need to see her.

Nate, I know it will be hard, but please don’t tell Delilah about this. She will just insist on finding me, and it’s not safe. I might be found out. It might implicate the queen. It’s messy, and I know you’ll feel guilty, but I trust you. You’re the only person I’ve ever really trusted.

I love you brother, and I miss you. I hope that you are well.

Sincerely, Thomas

P.S. Please destroy this letter after you read it. I wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.

Nathaniel laughed in disbelief as he finished the letter. Tom had survived after all, and was now free to live the life he always wanted. It’d be a hard secret to keep, but one that he was grateful for knowing. His family wasn’t quite as broken as he thought. Holding the letter, he stood and walked to the fireplace that burned on the far side of the room. He dropped the parchment into the flames and watch as it dissolved into ash before turning to face Anora once again.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, voice hoarse with emotion, “I’m certain that whatever I could come up with wouldn’t be good enough.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him, staring into the flames for several moments. “When I first took the throne, just months ago, I believed that it was my duty to atone for my father’s crimes. I thought that I would forever bear the weight of his decisions, suffer in his stead. I have made so many apologies I could not count them.

“Then, when I offered my reparations to the Couslands, to Elissa and Fergus, for what was done to them with my father’s approval, they told me I owed them nothing, and that we should learn from the sins of our fathers rather than suffer from them.”

“The Couslands are good people, Your Majesty.” Nathaniel nodded.

“Indeed.” She grinned widely. “I just thought that I should share that with you. I am uncertain how you are handling the news of what your father did, but I think your family doesn’t need to be forever tainted by his actions. Thomas deserves his happiness, as does Delilah, and yourself.”

“Thank you, again, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing more formally this time, “For everything.”

Nathaniel left the queen’s office, head buzzing with everything that had transpired in such a short span of time, and uncertain how to process it all. He was still filled with overwhelming dread at the thought of facing Liss, but it was muted by the excitement about his brother, and his gratefulness to Anora. He decided that he would see how his companion was faring, and then make a trip to the market, if for no other reason than to distract himself.

When he reached the door to the guest room designated for Lucia, he lightly rapped his knuckles against the wood. He heard shuffling noises from the other side, followed by an, “Is that Nathaniel?”

“Yes.”

“You can just come in.”

Nathaniel did as she said, pushed down on the knob, and entered the room. At first glance, he could not see Lucia, then he noticed her sitting on the floor by the bed, cross-legged with a quill and small journal in hand. She dipped the quill in an inkwell at her side and brought it up to drag it across the paper in hurried, yet smooth lines.

“I haven’t quite mastered drawing with ink,” she remarked as she squinted and furrowed her brows, examining her work thus far, “But there wasn’t any charcoal available, so I made do.”

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he observed, as he walked over to stand beside her, peering down at her work. “That looks like King Maric, when he was younger.”

Lucia laughed and looked up at him. “Well it’s good to know I captured the family resemblance.”

“It’s Cailan, then?”

“Alistair.”

“Alistair,” Nathaniel repeated, “You said that name yesterday. Is he the bastard who Arl Eamon tried to put on the throne?”

She nodded. “Yes, and if you mention it to him, he won’t shut up about it. He was upset by the whole affair.”

“You seem fond of him, but I don’t think I’ve heard you mention him before.”

“I haven’t.” Lucia inhaled a shaky breath. “Yesterday was the first time I had said his name out loud since I left for Amaranthine. I thought that if I ignored the pain, it would just go away. As it turns out, I just habituated to hurting.”

Nathaniel understood more than he was willing to admit. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing for the past nine years? Pretending his feelings didn’t exist?

“I should have written to him, but I didn’t,” she added, closing the journal, and setting it to her side with the quill and inkwell. “I’m not even sure why.”

“Willful illiteracy,” Nathaniel remarked dryly. That had been his own experience.

“That’s it!” Lucia laughed and rose to her feet, picking up her art supplies and setting them on the desk before turning back to face Nathaniel. “How was the meeting with Anora?” “Good. We just talked about our families.”

“I suppose you two have much in common now. In an unfortunate way.”

“We do.”

There was a brief pause, and then Lucia shook her head and brought her eyes up to meet Nathaniel’s. “I’m sure you came here for a reason. What did you need?”

“I’m heading to the Market District, a distraction. I thought I’d see if you wanted to come.”

“I’d like that.”

Late afternoon in the Market District was even busier than it had been in the early evening. People milled about, some busying themselves with the kiosks in the center of the square, others wandering from shop to shop, browsing wares. A dwarven merchant shouted something about “Dwarven Crafts” so many times that Nathaniel could reasonably predict when he would say it again. Patrons stood outside the tavern, chatting with one another. It seemed that the people of Denerim had gotten over their initial shock of seeing the Hero of Ferelden, as a few watched her with admiration, but did not interfere or impose in any other way. Most people just carried on as usual.

They visited several shops, passing by the smithy several times. Had Lucia not been along, he might have introduced himself to the woman his brother mentioned in the letter. Perhaps another time. Lucia ended up purchasing several things, including a fewl large, empty flasks she intended to use to experiment with a new potion, as well as some charcoal. She must have decided against practicing with ink.

As late afternoon turned to evening they made their way back to the palace, Lucia insisting on carrying her own things despite Nathaniel’s offer to help her. He assured her that he knew she could carry the things on her own, but that she did not have to. She refused nonetheless. They reached the main door to the palace that opened into the sprawling vestibule. Nathaniel grabbed the handle to the door, pulling it open for Lucia. As he held the door, he heard a loud clatter and rushed inside.

“Is everything all r-”

Lucia stood just in front of the door, surrounded by shards of shattered glass from having dropped the bags to the floor. He nearly grumbled at her about refusing his help, but he noticed that her eyes were locked on something at the far end of the room. He snapped his head in that direction to see what had so captivated her.

It was a lovely young couple that stood across from them, arms wrapped around one another affectionately, and the kiss they shared was rather chaste and brief, like a kiss to say goodnight, or goodbye. The man, he thought, looked rather melancholy, a frown on his face as he pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck. The woman, well, she was Liss, and needless to say, Nathaniel understood why Lucia had dropped her things.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #nathaniel howe #nathaniel howe x cousland #cousland #howesland #temperance #update #my writing #i'm prepared to be hollered at #i already know #i deserve it #it's really late but I couldn't stop writing

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allisondraste · 5 years

Text

Temperance (17/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Chapter Summary: A chance encounter in the Coastlands turns Nathaniel’s life upside down.

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

The Coastlands, 9:31 Dragon

Black smoke billowed up from Amaranthine City, filling the sky like quiet, brooding storm clouds. Though it had been days since Lucia had given the order to burn the capital of the arling to the ground, the last of the flames were yet to die out, and the hazy sky that resulted was a dark testament to the tragedy that occurred. Difficult and ruthless as it was, she made the right decision. Nathaniel had said as much, though she didn’t believe it.

Just days before the darkspawn attack, Delilah had written to him to say that she and Albert fled the spread of disease in the city to stay with his family in Kirkwall. Even before the Mother’s forces laid siege, Amaranthine was a lost cause. Lucia’s actions prevented more harm than they had caused, though the stubborn woman insisted upon blaming herself. He could scarcely fault her for that either. She was a young mage, not a hardened general and it was difficult to watch a city burn, especially one that did so upon your own command.

There was a flash of lighting, and thunder rang out, causing Nathaniel to jump, his attention shifting from the ruins in the distance to his more immediate surroundings. The Coastlands stretched between Amaranthine and Highever and were known for their temperamental weather. Now, they were better known as the lands where the talking darkspawn stragglers fled. When news of the creatures attacking villages and outposts in the area reached Vigil’s Keep, he offered to investigate and search for entrances to the Deep Roads. Velanna and Sigrun, the newest recruit, had asked to join him. Though he would not say so directly, he was glad. Being a Warden, having comrades who cared for him, it was the first time since he’d spent his last summer with the Couslands that he felt like he truly belonged. Solitude no longer had the same appeal.

“Fenedhis,” Velanna hissed as another clap of thunder rattled the sky, introducing the subsequent downpour. She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head, grumbling.

“You sure are jumpy for someone who’s lived on the surface your whole life,” Sigrun said, giggling, “Nate too.”

“And you are surprisingly unaffected by the storms,” Velanna remarked dryly.

“I’m used to it,” the dwarf answered with a shrug, “The Stone is loud when it moves.”

Nathaniel laughed and pulled up his own hood, scanning the area around them for anything that could provide shelter from the cold, winter wind and rain. They’d be no use against any darkspawn they encountered if they were soaking wet and freezing. He spotted a cliff several yards in the distance with a sizable overhang that would be suitable protection from the elements.

“We should take cover,” he explained, “Just until the storm lets up.”

Velanna and Sigrun nodded, relieved expressions crossing each of their faces, as they made their way toward their temporary shelter. The space beneath the overhang was actually larger than he expected, and even he was able to stand comfortably beneath it. He sat anyway. He should rest while he had the opportunity. His blood vibrated in his veins as it did when darkspawn were nearby, and it was certain to be a long afternoon of scouting and fighting, not to mention the several hours of walking back to the Keep. It wouldn’t have hurt the Warden-Commander to spare a horse or two.

“You are quiet,” Velanna stated, voice as soft as she could manage, which was not actually that soft. She was so accustomed to having to shout to be heard. It made sense.

“I am always quiet, my lady,” he replied, with no effort to hide the smirk that twitched at the corners of his mouth, “Unlike yourself.”

“I am not -,” she began, stopping as she heard her own voice echo off the stone around them. She crossed her arms and adjusted her voice to just more than a whisper. “I am not loud.”

“I apologize,” he said, a twinge of guilt pricking at him, “I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious.”

“He was just flirting ,” Sigrun interjected without looking up from the dirt where she traced spirals with her finger, “He thinks its fun to tease you.”

Velanna turned to look at him, brows furrowed, blinking in disbelief. Nathaniel just shrugged in response. It wasn’t an inaccurate appraisal, after all.

Velanna opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it, and then opened it again, but before she could do more than huff at him, she was interrupted by men shouting and a horse whinnying in distress. The commotion came from the cliff just above them.

Nathaniel rose to his feet and grabbed his weapon. “I’ll check it out.”

His companions nodded in response, each preparing themselves for battle, should it come to that, and he rushed out from beneath the overhang and up the hill that led to the ledge. A group of four men in worn, rough leathers surrounded a cloaked figure in expensive plate, who sat atop a horse that looked twice as expensive as the armor. Bandits looking for profit, and some noble fool who was stupid enough to travel alone while flaunting his wealth. He shook his head. He’d have to save the idiot.

Nathaniel readied his bow, aimed, and shot in one fluid motion, the arrow piercing the back of one unfortunate man’s knee just as he landed a blow to the fool’s arm, causing him to release the reins and fall from the horse. The thug cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground as well, his comrades turning to face Nathaniel.

One of the men, middle aged, carrying a shield decorated with an all-too-familiar bear, scowled and shouted, “Oh, look. It’s a Warden. Bet his pretty little head is worth a fortune.”

“Them’s the ones that burnt the city,” added another, younger man—no, a boy— knuckles white against the hilt of his sword. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, trembling with tears filling his eyes. “My mum was in there. Little sister, too. You lot are murderers. ”

“I lost my wife to the darkspawn,” said another, “Lost my son to the fire. Heroes my arse,” He bounced his daggers in his hands and spat, and then flung one at Nathaniel. Before he could move to dodge the projectile a wall of roots and vines surged up in front of him catching the dagger before receding back into the ground.

“A knife-eared witch,” rasped the man on the ground, pointing a shaky finger at Velanna who now stood just behind Nathaniel.

“What did you say, Shem,” Velanna growled, clenching her fists. The ground around them trembled and Nathaniel stretched an arm out in front of her.

“Don’t,” he said softly,

“What?” She shook her head indignantly. No!”

“Look at them,” Sigrun spoke, “They’re terrified, and they look like they haven’t eaten in days.”

“We haven’t,” the men chimed in unison.

“We’ve got nowheres to go,” the boy added, a large tear visibly streaking down his face. “No money. Nothin’ to our names.”

“You meant to rob that man just to get by.” Sigrun furrowed her brows and frowned. She was thinking of Dust Town, no doubt.

The men nodded, silent and stone-faced. The hooded man who had remained remarkably still and quiet, clutching his wounded arm, had only been attacked because these men were desperate. They were only desperate because they’d lost everything. The Wardens had cost them all but their lives. It didn’t matter how many people had been saved, the Wardens were villains in their eyes. To them, the means would never be justified, regardless of the ends.

“On behalf of the Grey Wardens,” Nathaniel said bowing his head, “I apologize for your losses, I-“

“What do you now of loss, Warden?” The middle- aged man spoke calmly, despite the deep, disdainful lines on his forehead, and his stance that suggested he was ready to attack at any moment.

“Me?” Nathaniel laughed a dry and empty laugh, reaching up to remove his hood despite the heavy rain that still fell. “My name is Nathaniel Howe. In case you are unfamiliar: these were my family’s lands before the Wardens took them from us. I am bitter, and I am angry, and there isn’t a day that goes by without me wishing I could have been here to make sure that this didn’t happen.”

Nathaniel paused and scanned the faces of the men, noting their shock and bewilderment. They all had lowered their weapons, and the boy had stopped his crying.

“But I am also grateful. You heard what happened at Ostagar, the West Hills. Without the Wardens, there would be no lands left untainted by darkspawn filth. I am sorry for what happened to your families, your homes. It was a difficult and terrible decision, but it was the right thing to do. We desperately want to make things right -- I desperately want to make things right -- but that won’t happen if you go around killing us before we get the chance.”

“Lord Howe,” the middle-aged man said with some degree of reverence. His shield was clearly a symbol of his loyalty to the family.

“I am no lord,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head, “Not anymore.”

“But -.”

“Here. “ He removed his coin purse from his belt and tossed it to the ground at the man’s feet, “There’s enough there to feed you and your men… and to fix that one’s leg.” He motioned to the wounded man.

“I… thank you.”

“If you need refuge, you are welcome at Vigil’s Keep. We’ve been providing shelter for those displaced by the darkspawn uprising.”

“But we tried to kill you,” the boy protested.

Nahaniel smirked. “You’ll be surprised to know how little that matters to the Warden-Commander.”

He sighed as he watched them walk away, hoping he’d made some difference, that they’d choose a better path. There was no way to be sure.

A warm hand squeezed his shoulder and he turned to see Velanna offering him a smile. “As much as I would have loved to teach those shemlen a lesson, I believe you did the right thing.”

“I agree,” Sigrun added, a sad smile on her face as she, too, watched the men walk away.

A rustling and scraping together of metal behind them reminded Nathaniel that the man he’d saved was still there, wounded. He turned to see that the man had risen to his feet and removed the hood he’d been wearing. Nathaniel blinked several times at the sight of his face, a familiar face, and one he would never have expected to see in the middle of the Coastlands being attacked by starving refugee bandits.

“Maker’s Blood.” He took a few steps forward, examining the man more closely. There were more lines on his face since the last time they’d seen one another, but there was no mistaking who he was. Especially not when he smiled that wide, cheerful grin. “Fergus?”

“Little Nate,” Fergus replied, clicking his tongue, “All grown up, and a Grey Warden at that.”

There was a long, heavy pause before he moved forward and embraced Nathaniel, who tensed at the sudden affection. It was as tight and sincere a hug that could be managed with only one arm unwounded, ending with a rough pat on the back as Fergus pulled away. For the first time Nathaniel could ever remember, there was an indescribable sadness behind the man’s eyes, and he didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t have to, as Fergus spoke first. “It’s good to see you, brother.”

Brother. It had been so many years, and there was so much strife between their broken remnants of families now, the term hardly felt deserved.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Nathaniel said, still stunned. This whole affair had been emotionally taxing to say the least, and now Fergus Cousland was standing in front of him. Not dead, and a very solid, very real reminder of what Father had done. He looked down, rage and grief building in his chest again. Then, he looked up. “I-.”

“I know what you’re going to say, Nate,” Fergus interrupted him, shaking his head, “And don’t.”

“Delilah told me what Father did,” Nathaniel explained, holding onto his composure by a thread, “I owe you an apology.”

“No you bloody don’t,” Fergus snapped, “You aren’t you’re father, and you’re not responsible for his actions. Besides, I’m sick of apologies. It’s been the first thing out of everyone’s mouths when they see me. It’s a nice gesture and all, but no amount of sorry is going to bring my family back, you know?”

Nathaniel nodded. “I know. I just… wish I could have been here. I would have never let it happen. I’d have died first.”

“I know.” Fergus smiled somberly but then hissed and clutched at his wounded arm with the opposite hand, which was stained with fresh blood when he pulled it away. “Damn. It’s worse than I thought.”

“Velanna, do you think you can…” He trailed off, motioning vaguely at Fergus, his mind in a blur.

“I will see what I can do,” she answered, “But we will need to get out of this rain.”

“Good idea,” Sigrun said, teeth chattering, “I’m starting to change my mind about this whole weather thing.”

They returned to their spot beneath the rocky overhang, Fergus walking along beside Nathaniel, clumsily. He must have been disoriented from falling from horse which had run off during the fighting. Fergus said that he figured she hadn’t gone far and would wander back eventually. Either she was a well trained horse, or the man’s hopes were misplaced.

It was still cold under the ledge, and it’d be difficult to start a fire with damp kindling and wood. However, it was dry and illuminated well enough by the daylight that Velanna could get a better look at Fergus’ arm.

Nathaniel sat quietly observing as Fergus introduced himself to the other Wardens, charming as ever. Sigrun bantered back and forth with him playfully, but Velanna scoffed and rolled her eyes. She was probably a lot more entertained than she’d let on.

“Can’t say I expected you to return to Ferelden after everything,” Fergus said, grimacing as Velanna pulled away his armor and the tattered bloody fabric just below his shoulder.

“I had to see what happened for myself.” Nathaniel laughed. “I planned to kill the Warden who destroyed my family and took our lands.

“And so you joined them instead?”

“I was conscripted, a pardon for theft.”

“Theft?” Fergus squinted. “You’re no thief.”

“The Wardens claimed some of the Howe heirlooms belonged to them. I got caught trying to take some of them back.”

“Maker’s Breath… and they conscripted you for that?”

“It was that or the noose.” Nathaniel shrugged. “I chose the noose, but the Warden-Commander refused, so here I am. Killing sentient darkspawn and pissing off the people of Amaranthine.”

Fergus shifted uncomfortably as Velanna began to tend the wound. Without healing magic, it needed stitches, and stitches were painful. Nathaniel wished he had something to offer him to cut the pain. It was a shame Oghren wasn’t around with a flask of whatever. Ever since he’d started to cut back, he was much more inclined to share. In fact, he’d been annoyingly pushy about it. Nobody wanted the ale he found in some dungeon somewhere.

“That’s actually why I came out this way,” Fergus said through a pained growl, “I’d received word of some commotion in Amaranthine City, but nothing official from the Arlessa.”

“The Warden-Commander was busy putting out fires,” Nathaniel replied more defensively than he should have.

“Seems more like she’s been busy starting them,” Fergus said with a wink and Nathaniel relaxed, “Sounds like it was necessary, though.”

“Unfortunately.”

There were a few moments of silence and Nathaniel spoke again hoping to change the subject from such an intense focus on himself. “You’re the Teyrn now, huh.”

“Unfortunately,” he mimicked Nathaniel, before grinning. Again, his smile only barely concealed his sadness. “It’s unbelievable to me that people would be so hungry for this kind of power. It’s miserable. I miss my family. I’d be a poor, powerless man if it meant I could kiss my wife again, if I could tuck my son into bed.”

“I can’t imagine.” Nathaniel frowned, unsure what else to say besides an apology that Fergus would no doubt reject.

“Elissa had it worse than I did, there in the castle, witnessing it all…” Fergus trailed off, eyes losing their focus briefly. “She blames herself, you know. Wishes she could have died instead of my son as if the Maker would have been open to barter. You should really try to talk some sense into her. She might listen to you.”

For a moment time stood still, as Fergus’ words rang in Nathaniel’s ears. Liss was alive.

“What’s wrong, Nate?” He flinched as Velanna continued stitching the wound. She looked up at Nathaniel briefly, meeting his eyes. Sigrun watched him as well, and Fergus continued. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I…” He couldn’t quite form a meaningful message for his mouth to say.

“You… you didn’t know my sister survived, did you?”

Nathaniel shook his head. “No. My sister told me everyone who was in the castle that night died. I just assumed-.”

“You know better than to underestimate Liss,” Fergus scolded, “Fought her way out with a borrowed sword wearing nothing but her nightgown. She’s a damn legend.”

“Where is she now?” Nathaniel’s breath was shallow and his heart raced up his throat as if it were going to crawl out of his mouth at the news.

“Denerim, working for Queen Anora,” Fergus answered, smiling mischievously. “You should pay her a visit. It’d make her entire year, I think.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Your father isn’t stopping you anymore.”

“It’s been nine years.” Nathaniel laughed and shook his head, despite his nagging desire to take off to the capital at that moment. “I’m sure she’s -.”

“What? Happy and moved on?” Fergus interrupted him. “Hardly. I mean, she tried, but nobody ever mattered to her like you did. She never stopped waiting for you, even when she swore she had.”

“Oh, how romantic,” Sigrun said, clasping her hands together.

“There,” Velanna announced abruptly as she finished tying up Fergus’ bandages.

“Thank you, Lady Velanna,” he chirped cheerfully.

“Ugh. There’s two of them,” she groaned, and rolled her eyes. “You are welcome, I suppose.”

She wiped her hands off with a strip of cloth and busied herself with putting things back into her pack —loudly— and announced that she needed to take a walk, stomping out into the rain, which still lingered as just a light drizzle. Fergus looked to Nathaniel, eyebrows raised in amusement, but Nathaniel just sighed. It wasn’t amusing.

“Anyway,” Fergus said rising to his feet, “You should at least talk to her. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.”

“I will need to think about it,” Nathaniel stood as well, “I am not the same person I was when I left.”

“Neither is she.” Fergus laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and eyed him sincerely. He hated that the man could still get to him like that

A horse whinnied behind them and Fergus’ face brightened.

“There’s my girl,” he said, walking over and running a hand down the horse’s forehead and muzzle. He turned back to Nathaniel. “Well, the storm’s let up. I suppose I should head out. Let you all get back to… wardening. Thanks for saving my arse back there.”

“Take care, Fergus.”

“Yeah, you too,” Fergus said, climbing up onto his horse, “Go talk to my sister, and don’t be a stranger. We’re family.”

Nathaniel nodded, a smile spreading across his lips and Sigrun waved at his side.

“It was nice to meet you, Lady Sigrun. Lady Velanna, too, if you’ll pass along the message.”

“Did you hear that?” Sigrun giggled, bringing a hand to her face, as they watched Fergus ride off in the direction of Highever. “He called me a lady.”

Nathaniel was silent in response, aching already at Fergus’ departure. As fraught with emotion as their reunion was, it had been good. He’d missed the man, someone who’d so readily accepted him as a friend and brother. Perhaps they’d have more time to catch up in the future, especially if Liss, well, if he went to her in Denerim. If nothing else went horribly wrong.

“What are you going to do?” Sigrun asked, eyes blinking up at him.

“I’m going to find Velanna,” he answered, knowing that wasn’t what she meant, but hoping to avoid a discussion about it. “Then, I’m going to kill whatever darkspawn are nearby making my blood itch.”

It did not take long to locate Velanna, who sat in the grass, leaning against a large tree that looked as if it had been split in two by lightning. She stared off into the distance, forehead wrinkled and twisting the tattoos that marked her face.

“There you are,” he said, sitting down beside her. “I’d ask if you’re okay, but considering the way you stormed off, I think I already know the answer.”

“I apologize for leaving as I did.” She shook her head. “It was juvenile.”

“My conversation with Fergus upset you, didn’t it?”

“As foolish as that sounds, yes. It did.” Velanna brought her eyes up to meet his briefly before looking away. “I have always been an outsider. Lonely. Misunderstood. Excluded even by my own kind. I thought that it was some sort of flaw in me, that it was how I deserved to be treated. It’s not as if I had any reason to believe otherwise.

“Then I met you, a human, a noble...the epitome of everything I should hate, and yet I could not. Besides Seranni, you were the first person to ever treat me as if I was worthy of kindness before I did anything to earn it, or before I scared it out of you. On top of that you gave me compliments, called me beautiful. It would be hard for anyone not care for you after that, I should think.”

“You would be surprised,” he answered, dryly, “Justice did not take kindly to my compliments about his complexion. The rotten bastard called me disingenuous.”

“You were being disingenuous,” she said laughing slightly, “With him. Not with me.”

“No.” He shook his head, tone serious. “I meant what I said to you. Still do.”

“That woman you all spoke about, his sister. She is the person you could never move on from isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Nathaniel admitted, “I have been in love with her since I was just a boy, though I was never allowed to say as much.”

Velanna was quiet, and he worried for a moment that she would lash out at him, furious that he led her on, but she didn’t. Instead, she just smiled and sighed. “I envy her.”

The soft acceptance pierced him more deeply than any amount of anger could have. “Velanna, I’m sorry. I would not have been so forward with you had I any idea whatsoever that she was alive.”

“I know that,” she assured him. Her small hand was warm to the touch as she placed it over his. “Please do not be sorry. I’m not.”

“But-,” he began, interrupted by the soft pressure of her lips against his cheek.

“I am disappointed, but that is all,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. “I will get over it, and I would like it if we could still be friends.”

“I’d like that, too.”

Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they sat in silence for several moments before Velanna spoke again, moving out from under his arm to glare at him. “You have to tell her how you feel, Nathaniel. You would be a fool to let her go again.”

“I know,” he said, rising to his feet and offering a hand to her, “As soon as we take care of these darkspawn stragglers and return to the Vigil, I will ask for leave to go to Denerim.”

“Good.” Velanna took his hand and allowed him to help her up. “I will harass you if you do not.”

“At this point, I think everyone is going to harass me if I don’t.”

By the time they found Sigrun, she had -- to no one’s surprise -- already dealt with a half-dozen darkspawn, and made a much-deserved prod at Nathaniel and Velanna for being “lazy bones.” They had not exactly been lazy, but they also had not been fighting hurlocks either. Altogether it only took a couple of hours to scout the area and finish off the remaining creatures. They located only one Deep Roads entrance in the area, and boarded it up so that some unfortunate wanderer would not stumble into it accidentally, and set out on the return trip to Vigil’s Keep. One of the experts there could seal the hole properly at a later date.

It was not until the next morning that Nathaniel sought out Lucia to request permission to travel to the capital. He and the others had not arrived back at the Keep until late at night, and he’d been too emotionally and physically exhausted to do anything but take a bath and collapse into bed. No doubt the Warden-Commander would grant him permission. She would most likely wonder why he even felt the need to ask her. Still, regardless of their friendship, she remained his commanding officer, and he intended to give her the formality and respect she deserved.

He made his way to the Great Hall, intending to visit Lucia in her office, which was just off it’s east wing. The office had previously belonged to his father, and he was never allowed in there. He wondered what the man had been hiding, if anything at all. He was stopped in his path by Garavel, the former Guard Captain who was promoted to Seneschal in the wake of Varel’s heroic demise.

“Warden Howe,” he shouted, his voice reverberating throughout the hall, “I take it you are looking for Warden-Commander Amell.”

“Yes.”

“She’s not there,” Garavel stated with some hesitation.

“You seem concerned, Seneschal.”

“We don’t actually know where the Warden-Commander is right now,” the man explained, “Some of the guards saw her leave her quarters in the middle of the night, but she has yet to return.”

“Was she armored?”

“The guards said she was just wearing nightclothes…” he trailed off as Nathaniel shook his head and sighed. “What is it?”

“I know where she is,” said Nathaniel, turning to exit the hall. He grabbed a woolen blanket from the storage bin conveniently placed by the main door. “Thank you, Seneschal.”

The battlements that surrounded Vigil’s Keep were extensive, encompassing the entire courtyard, as well as the castle itself. When he was a boy, Nathaniel had often sought refuge from his father’s wrath up there. If anything, it kept him out of the way during the worst of it. Father had lacked the patience to search the entire length of the wall for him. He suspected that’s what had happened with Lucia and the guards. He’d run into her up there several times, often late at night and completely underdressed for the weather. She seemed to have as much trouble sleeping as he did, perhaps more.

Certainly enough he found her, elbows on the parapet, looking out over the Keep. She did not hear him at first, and he took a moment to watch her as she twisted what appeared to be the dried up remnants of a rose between her fingers. There were tears in her eyes, and she looked so broken and sad. It was too intimate and not for him to see. He shifted uncomfortably, preparing to walk away and attempt to speak with her again later, but she heard him, hurriedly wiping a tear from her cheek and straightening her posture.

“Nathaniel?” She furrowed her brows at him as he moved forward to stand by her side.

“Sorry to disturb you. Some of the guards saw you leave your quarters in the middle of the night, and Garavel was worried when you did not return. I figured I might find you up here, attempting to freeze to death,” he explained, unfolding the blanket and draping it over her shoulders, “If you want to die, I can think of a hundred more noteworthy ways to go about it.”

“I’m not trying to freeze to death,” she snapped, pulling the blanket more tightly around her, “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

“Troubled?” It was none of his business, really, but he had to ask. He leaned forward and joined her in resting her elbows on the parapet.

“I’m fine. Just restless.” She looked straight ahead, off into the distance, and sighed.

“You know, you’re an excellent commander, but a piss poor liar.” He looked at her, then down to the flower in her hand, nodding at it. “What’s that?”

She laughed humorlessly and looked at him. “My latest weapon of choice.”

“A withered rose?” It appeared he was not the only with difficult feelings he’d rather avoid.

Lucia shrugged. “It’s poetic.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes, grateful she was his friend as well as his commanding officer. Any other commanding officer might be offended by the sheer insubordination. “Permission to speak candidly?”

“Always.”

“I’m not sure what is on your mind right now, and I’m not going to ask. Whatever it is, though, you’re thinking entirely too much about it.”

“That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” She raised her eyebrows and grinned. “I believe “brooding” is the term Anders uses to describe you.”

“Maybe so,” he conceded, “But, just from experience alone, I know that it’s stupid to waste so much time thinking about all the things that could go wrong that you lose something important to you.”

“It’s unwise to act without thinking things through,” she argued, “That’s how you end up hurt: making rash choices.”

“Failure to act is also a rash choice.”

“I… I don’t know what to do, Nathaniel,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up, voice cracking, “I feel like every decision I’ve made in the past year has been wrong. I made sound, logical choices and they all had horrible consequences. People got hurt. People important to me. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“People always get hurt, even when you do the right thing ,” he said gently, his own voice raw with emotion, “Sometimes, all you can do is go with your gut, and hope it works out. You have to trust yourself. I learned that the hard way.”

“How does one go with one’s gut,” asked the woman who had clearly never made an impulsive decision in her life.

“If you could do anything in the world you wanted right now without consequence, what would you do?”

“I’d go to Denerim,” Lucia replied almost instantly. Nathaniel couldn’t help but smirk at her coincidental answer.

“Then you need to go to Denerim.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he answered with a nod, “It’s funny because I actually came up here to ask for leave to go to Denerim. I have some business to attend to there, myself.”

“That’s ironic,” she laughed, “When shall we leave?”

“Now, if you’re up for it.”

Lucia tensed up and blinked several times. “Now? Right now?”

“Yes. Right now. I’m tired of both of us moping about.” He whirled around as he spoke, waving for her to follow, and she did.

For better or worse, they were bound for Denerim.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #nathaniel howe #cousland #nathaniel howe x cousland #velanna #sigrun #Temperance #update #long chapter #my writing

27 notes · View notes

allisondraste · 5 years

Text

Temperance (11/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Chapter Summary: Did someone say "Epistolary Chapter?" Oh wait, no, that was me... EPISTOLARY CHAPTER.

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK] Denerim, 9:31 Dragon

Dearest Sister,

Apologies for taking so long to write to you. I know you must be just beside yourself with worry. Never fear! Big brother is alive, just drowning in responsibilities. Assuming the role of Teyrn has a lot more to it than just sitting in the big chair and sending soldiers to do things. Who knew there would be so much bloody paperwork? Father certainly never mentioned it. He made it all look so very seamless and easy. Were he here now, I think he’d be wishing his brilliant daughter had been the heir instead. You should have been the heir from the start, precedent be damned.

I never expected to inherit Highever like this. Father led me to believe he would pass it on well before the end of his days and serve as my advisor. I’m honestly lost. There are so many things in disrepair. Queen Anora did a marvelous job at restoring the castle, but the city, our lands… they’ve suffered from the Blight, and from Howe’s piss poor management of them. I hope and pray everyday that I am making good choices for our home and for our family.

I know that you are eager to know how I am faring more personally, and to be honest Liss, it is all I can do to make it through the day without breaking down. It was one thing to be told that my wife and son were murdered, it is a completely different experience to walk into the room we once shared and for it to be empty. To see Oriana’s dresses and jewelry, that wooden sword you gave to Oren. Just being here is a constant reminder of everything I’ve lost. If I could bring Rendon Howe back to life just to murder him myself, I would without hesitation.

Did you know Queen Anora stripped the Howe family of their lands and granted it to the Grey Wardens? I just received a very official letter from the new Arlessa of Amaranthine, Warden -Commander Lucia Amell, Hero of Ferelden (What a mouthful!) I don’t think she wrote it. I feel like she might be too busy dealing with whatever is happening in Amaranthine right now with the Darkspawn. Either way, I thought you’d be interested to know. I’m not sure that I think Howe’s family deserves to pay for what he did. Maker… I wonder if word has even reached Nathaniel in the Marches. Wonder how he’ll take it.

Anyway, I am sure that you do not want to read pages of my rambling. I do miss you, sis. I wish that you could be here to kick the arses of all these families trying to arrange marriages with their daughters. I’m not ready yet... I don’t know that I ever will be.

I hope that Denerim is being kind to you. Does the queen keep you busy? Knowing Anora, I assume so.

Talk to you soon. Love, Fergus

P.S. I’ve sent a package along with this letter. I found something that I thought you might want to see.

Liss sighed heavily, as if she could exhale the weight off her chest, and sat Fergus’ letter down on the desk before her. It was not easy for her to hear that her big brother, the man she looked up to above anyone else alive, was so defeated. Not that she blamed him of course. She had only to mourn the loss of her parents while he had lost his wife and son as well. He didn’t blame her for that, but she still did. She probably always would.

Blotting the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, she moved to open the package that had come with the letter, doing her best to avoid thinking about Howe or his family or Amaranthine or any of it. It sat atop a stack of correspondence which she had only gotten the chance to sort through today. Fergus was correct in assuming she had been busy. Restoring order to a country required long hours in a small chamber and many heated discussions.

She smiled at the package’s clumsy wrapping. There was no question that it was truly from her brother. Nobody else in Thedas could wrap something so poorly, and with such honest effort. She pulled at the twine that held the burlap in place, uncovering a thick, leather-bound journal. Even worn by time and water damage, it was unmistakable. It was hers, and she had forgotten it even existed.

Unable to contain her excitement she leaned back in her chair and began to thumb through the pages. The first several were relegated to poems and pieces of prose she had started but never finished, poorly drawn women with swords, and some pressed flowers. After that, she had apparently begun using the journal as a diary.

15 Justinian, 9:18 Dragon: Today was bad.

That was all Liss’ eleven-year-old self had written. Vague, but the expressive scribbles below depicted a man that looked like Rendon Howe with the word “knife-ear” written in a bubble beside his head. Her blood boiled remembering that day. Poor Rila. Liss had fond memories with the Elven girl, but she recalled all the times she got her into trouble, simply because she was too oblivious to realize that Rila did not have the same privileges she did. If she had, it would have spared them both some grief.

Liss flipped through several pages of brief entries from that summer, most of them complaining about the fact that Nathaniel was not allowed to talk to her. That had always pestered her, and she had not really understood the reason why his father frowned upon their friendship, at least not at the time. Obviously, he had been worried that it would develop into more and that she would want to marry Nate instead of Thomas, but Rendon did not know his own son. Nate had not been interested in her like that. If so, he would have taken one of the ample opportunities she had given him throughout their formative years to say so.

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. Howe was dead, her family was dead, Thomas was dead, and she had not spoken to Nate in over seven years, so he might as well have been dead, too. None of it mattered anyway.

She slammed the journal shut and placed it in one of her desk drawers, unable to bring herself to go through the rest of it at the moment. She knew how the story went, after all. It had been some time since she had really let herself think about Nathaniel. Well, she always thought about him. There just happened to be a particular way she didn’t let herself think about him. He was a part of her, and he took that part with her when he left, that’s all that really mattered. Damn him for never writing. Damn him in general.

Opening another drawer, she pulled out a piece of parchment and reached for the quill and inkpot that sat at the far corner of the desk. She wanted to write to her brother while she had time. It would not do for her to become lost in thoughts of a past that wasn’t important anymore and forget to respond to Fergus for weeks while she drowned her sorrows in work.

Dear Fergus,

You don’t have to apologize for needing time to get yourself sorted. I kind of expected that. I am just happy to hear from you at all. I wish that there were some words I could say to make everything better, but you and I both know that the only thing that will help us heal is time. I was going to try to avoid saying sorry again because you told me not to, but I am. I’m sorry. I seem to get sorrier every day.

I have heard about Amaranthine. More than I would like to, quite frankly. Amaranthine this, Amaranthine that. Amaranthine is all I hear about these days. One of the members of Anora’s council is a Grey Warden, and each time we meet, we spend more than half of the time listening to a bunch of angry banns complaining about the fact that an apolitical entity like the Grey Warden Order is now somehow nose deep in politics. Alistair — the Grey Warden — doesn’t even have contact with the Warden-Commander, so he can’t answer to any of it. I worry, Fergus. There are talks of an assassination, a plan to remove the Hero of Ferelden from her seat. It’s almost as if they’ve forgotten the woman saved their sorry arses from the Archdemon.

I understand the queen’s reasoning, but this has caused needless strife. If she had granted Amaranthine to Delilah, who almost assuredly had nothing to do with her father’s evil, we would actually be able to get some work done instead of rehashing the same arguments a thousand times. Andraste’s blood, I’m not cut out for this.

But that is beside the point, and I’m certain you don’t want to read me rant on and on about politics, of all things. Sounds like you have enough on your hands as is, juggling all of those marriage proposals. I will gladly march right up to Highever to put those power-hungry airheads in their place. All you have to do is ask. You need time to actually mourn, and taking a wife who will be more interested in your status than your well-being would not be a good decision.

Listen to me, Fergus, I do not care how lonely or hot and bothered you get, don’t you dare marry one of those glorified leeches. Get a friend. Go to a brothel. Get a friend who you feel comfortable doing brothel things with. Do what you have to, but I’ll not see my brother married to someone who does anything but love him for who he is. Do you understand me?

Remember that you do have a sister here who cares about you, too. Denerim is just a couple days’ journey from Highever, and as soon as things slow down here, I’ll be making a trip to visit. The thought of it terrifies me. The last memories of home I have are covered in blood and sound like screams. Still, I’ll have to eventually. What better motivation than to see my big brother who I miss dearly.

Thank you for the journal, by the way. It’s a difficult read, but I’m grateful to have it back. I had forgotten it even existed. Apparently, 11-year-old me was chock full of feelings about Rendon Howe, too. I’m sure you remember that.

I love you, Brother, and I will see you soon. Sincerely, Liss

Liss folded the parchment and stuffed it into an envelope that she then sealed and addressed to be sent out tomorrow. She wondered whether she had been too stern with her brother, but someone had to remind him to think with the head on his shoulders and not the one in his breeches! He was a grown man who had basically been coddled his entire life, which meant he needed someone to look out for him until he learned to do that for himself. Sheltered young men always made the worst decisions. Perhaps it was hypocritical, coming from someone who was younger than him and also sheltered, but she didn’t care.

Setting the prepared postage aside, Liss focused on the stack of correspondence filling her desk, going through each envelope and scroll one by one. Many of the letters were junk: advertisements from local shops, political mailings, bounties, missing persons reports, and other things that Liss tossed into the waste bin at her side.

There were several messages from Bria, asking Liss to come visit, and she made a mental note to do so. Bria was intelligent, funny, and good at what she did. Liss enjoyed her company, and had spent many hours talking with the woman, learning a lot about Antiva and a little about the Forge. It was a friendship she had not expected, but one for which she was grateful nonetheless.

Speaking of unexpected friendships, there was also a handful of notes from Alistair -- tiny scrolls that, when unraveled, revealed brief messages with messy sketches beneath them. One in particular depicted a stick figure labeled as “Alistair” sitting atop a pile of little triangles.

There is too much cheese in this castle. What is it with you noble people and smelly cheese? Is it some kind of contest? I don’t even like cheese. It’s just old milk. Blech!

Another note featured some poorly drawn shape that looked oddly vulgar until she read the note that accompanied it.

Liss. Did you know that the first ever crime reported in Denerim was “Theft of Parsnip?” Look it up. P.S. I don’t actually know what parsnips look like.

One note was written on the back of a book page, and Liss had to take some deep breaths to calm her feelings about the damaged literature.

Sorry about the damaged literature. I just ran out of parchment. I don’t actually remember what I wanted to say. I’m sure it will come to me later.

Another note written on a torn book page:

I remembered. It was that I wanted to say that I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages. We’ve both been so busy, I guess. It’s weird to miss someone who lives just down the hall.

A flush climbed to Liss’ face and a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth as she read his words. Had she not known better, she would have sworn he was interested in her in a way that was more than friendly. She hadn’t known Alistair very long -- around three months -- but in the time that she had known him, she observed that he was kind to everyone, but not in the same way he was kind to her. It was slight, and hidden under a lot of other emotions he had, but it was there. Yet, she knew better. The last time they’d really had time to speak outside of small exchanges in the hall had been the night they drank too much rum in her room and he talked about his past. Most of the conversation was centered around the Warden-Commander, who he affectionately referred to as “Luce.” Liss figured only he was allowed to call the Hero of Ferelden by that name. She doubted Alistair even remembered much of that discussion, and he never said it outright, but Liss could tell that he loved her. Even inebriated, his words sang praise of this woman whose absence so clearly wounded him. She figured it was best to not remind him of their conversation. The poor man would probably be embarrassed.

Rolling up each of his notes, she placed them in the same drawer with her journal, and turned her attention to the final letter on her desk. It was a large envelope with an official-looking seal. Upon closer examination, Liss realized that the seal was stamped with the shape of griffon, and she turned the envelope over to see to whom it was addressed. Alistair. It had been delivered to the wrong person. She hopped up immediately and ran out of her room, down the hall and toward the corridor where his room was, letter in hand. She knocked on the door erratically and relentlessly, not stopping until the door swung open to reveal her sleepy-eyed friend.

“Liss,” he mumbled groggily, although he did not seem particularly annoyed. In fact, he had the beginnings of a smile on his face. “What are you -?” “Can I come in,” she blurted excitedly walking past him before he had time to answer. He closed the door behind them and turned to face her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night visit?” He rubbed at his eyes and motioned for her to sit down in the chair at his desk.

She shook her head politely, indicating that she wanted to stand, so Alistair slumped into the chair in her place, raking fingers through his disheveled hair. “I was going through my mail, and at the very bottom of the stack, there was this letter.” She extended the envelope out to him. “It has your name on it, and a griffon seal. It must have been delivered to the wrong -.”

Alistair stood abruptly and took the letter out of her hands, shaking nervously as he broke the seal and pulled out a piece of thick parchment. Liss watched as his eyes flicked across the page. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he read on, and when he finished reading, he shook his head, crumpled up the letter, and tossed it to the floor.

“It’s not her handwriting,” he stated tersely, the laugh that followed more bitter than Liss had ever heard from him, “She can’t even write to me herself to tell me that she’s alive. Is it really so difficult? ‘Dear Alistair, I’m not dead.” No, I don’t think it is.” He threw his hands up. “Maker’s breath.”

“I’m, um,” Liss began, unsure what to say, and feeling incredibly guilty that she woke him up in the middle of the night just to cause him pain, “I’m sorry, I thought… Well. You know.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assured her, expression and voice softening instantly as he reached out to touch her shoulder, “I thought the same. Thank you for bringing it to me.” His eyes lingered on her for longer than he intended, or at least it seemed that way when he darted them away quickly and took his hand from her shoulder, bringing it up to scratch the back of his neck.

“I should… go.” She motioned to the door with her head, and began to walk out of the room.

“Wait,” Alistair said, urgently, reaching out and taking her wrist in his hand. Liss turned back to look at him, his features pleading with her. “I mean.” He let go of her arm. “If you’re not… You know what, nevermind.”

Liss moved forward, taking his hand in hers and smiling as she met his gaze. “Alistair, we’re friends, remember? If you need company, all you have to do is say so.”

Alistair nodded slowly, eyes sparkling with tears Liss knew were about to fall. She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around him in a hesitant embrace. She’d never hugged him before, and he had always tensed and flinched at her touch, so she was prepared for that. She was not prepared for the giant man to return the embrace so forcefully that it nearly knocked them both over. He buried his face into her shoulder, a few warm tears falling, wet against her skin.

They stood that way for several long moments, until Alistair released her and offered an embarrassed smile.

“Want to go to our spot in the Gardens?” Liss chirped, hoping to cut the awkwardness out of the moment.

“That would be good,” Alistair said with a nod. “Thank you, Liss.”

#dragon age #dragon age origins #cousland #alistair theirin #liss cousland #cousland x nathaniel howe #cousland x alistair #we're getting there #temperance #my writing

18 notes · View notes

allisondraste · 5 years

Text

Temperance (9/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Chapter Summary: [Sings] Hey there Delilah, what’s it like in Amaranthine...

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

Amaranthine, 9:31 Dragon

Amaranthine was a jewel, if jewels smelled of piss and were overrun with petty criminals. How very little it had changed since Nathaniel last walked the streets as a child. He had once been so proud that his family owned such an esteemed city. Now, as with most things, he realized Amaranthine was much more pleasant in his memories.

Just over a week had passed since he learned that his sister was alive and well, married to a merchant in the city. Lucia had assured him that they would visit as soon as time allowed, but Warden business had taken them to the Wending Wood where they were captured by an unnerving talking Darkspawn and locked, half-naked in a cell in the Silverite Mines there, so they were delayed by a few days. Nathaniel had seen more of Oghren than he’d ever be able to forget. Still, it wasn’t completely horrible, as it had earned them a new companion, a young elven woman named Velanna. He hadn’t thought it possible for someone to have a bigger chip on their shoulder than he did, but she seemed to have him beat. Quite the accomplishment, really.

“Lighten up, gorgeous,” Anders chirped dumbly, and Nathaniel wasn’t certain if he was completely incapable of reading his audience or if he just didn’t care to.

Velanna didn’t respond, instead remaining silent and shooting him a look that might as well have been a fireball.

“Yeesh, and here I thought the commander was the master of silent, murderous glaring.” When she still said nothing Anders threw up his hands. “Fine. Be grumpy. You’ll fit right in with this lot.”

“Anders, focus” Lucia said calmly without turning her head, continuing to scan the crowds in front of them. “We’re looking for your contact, remember?”

“Right, sorry.” He walked more swiftly to keep up pace with her.

Nathaniel stayed behind with their new companion, studying her features as she bit her lip and looked around nervously. She reminded him of a woman he met in the Free Marches, one who’d nearly killed him when he stumbled onto the archery range at the Grand Tourney. She had large eyes and the same pretty markings on her face, only without the visible distress Velanna had,“I take it this is your first time in the city? It can be jarring.”

For a moment he thought she would ignore him too, but then she sighed and turned to look at him. "I've never seen so many humans in one place,” she complained, gesturing with her hands, “Look at them...crawling, all over, like rats.”

“That is… one way to describe it,”

“You are one of them, too, you know.” Her speech was hesitant, guarded. “And of noble birth, are you not?”

“I am,” he answered, earning him a deadly look, “Your glare suggests that my presence troubles you.”

“No more than anything else in this wretched place.” She shook her head. “I am simply wondering how your kind can call yourselves ‘nobles’ at all.”

“We like irony,” he answered with a shrug he knew he would regret later, “‘Nobles’ rolls off the tongue better than ‘oppressors.’”

“Ah, so you are a funny human.” She scowled, but he swore he saw a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

“No, not I,” he replied irreverently, “Anders is the only fun one here, you heard him. I wouldn’t dare try to lighten your mood, my lady.”

Velanna rolled her eyes and shoved past him with a disgusted grunt of disapproval. He smirked and followed along after her and the rest of the party.

The search for Anders’ contact led them through the center of the markets, stalls set up in every direction, each selling some different type of ware. Immediately in front of them was a weaponsmith whose freshly forged swords hung on racks, and a grocer selling cheeses and dried meats that looked more appetizing than they smelled. Then again, it was impossible to determine whether it was the cheese he smelled or the city, not that it mattered.

“Nathaniel?” A familiar voice rang out through the crowd, drawing his attention from the grocer to a tall woman with dark hair and pale blue eyes, to his sister.

“Delilah,” he said, a smile twitching on his lips as he rushed to meet her. He’d expected to have to search for his sister, not bump into her in the crowded marketplace.

“Nate, it really is you.” There were tears in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re alright. I worried you might return to Ferelden and attempt to avenge our family or something else daringly stupid, to get yourself killed.”

“I intended to,” he explained, “I was captured by the Wardens before I had the chance.”

“Oh,” Delilah pulled away and examined his armor, then looked behind him toward Lucia and the others. “And you joined them, I see.”

“It was a mercy,” he explained, “I would have been executed otherwise.”

“Nathaniel Howe,” she said with a soft laugh, “A Grey Warden. You really are just like Grandfather.”

“Father would have hated it.” He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter what Father would have thought.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You’re alive and at least reasonably safe, and that’s all that matters. Come, we need to catch up.”

Nathaniel turned to Lucia to ask if they had time to spare, but the clever woman was already two steps ahead of him.

“Visit with your sister,” she said, as if it were an order, but then smiled gently “Surely we can find Anders’ phylactery without you.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

Nathaniel nodded his gratitude to Lucia and followed Delilah into the small home behind them. It was quaint and tidy with green plants decorating surfaces throughout, exactly what he would expect from a house that belonged to his sister… and her husband. He stiffened at the prospect of his little sister -- sweet, clever Delilah -- being a married woman now.

“Groundskeeper Samuel told me you are married,” he said, looking around the room, more to avoid eye contact than to examine the decor.

“I am,” she answered, “His name is Albert. You’ll have to meet him sometime.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“I adore him,” she said with a smile in her voice. “I never thought I’d get to marry for love. I always assumed Father would wed me off to Fergus Cousland.”

Nathaniel couldn’t contain an amused snort. ”I can think of worse men to be wed off to.”

“So can I.” There was a somberness to her words he couldn’t quite place. She shook her head, as if chasing a thought away and turned her gaze toward him. “Still, it’s so much better to have a choice.”

A long silence stretched between them filled with the weight of so much shared loss Nathaniel didn’t quite know how to address. Thomas. Father. The family reputation. Delilah was the only person in Thedas who could understand, and yet it was so good to see her, and he was so relieved that she was happy. He did not want to bring up the dead bodies in the room.

“Delilah, what happened while I was away,” he finally spoke, his chest tightening as he watched his sister’s joy wash from her face.

“Father happened,” she answered tersely, crossing her arms. “He destroyed our family.”

“Father got caught up in politics. Don’t you think you’re… overstating it a bit?”

“You weren’t here.” Delilah’s eyes pierced him like knives. “You didn’t see what he became. He was a monster.”

“No.” He shook his head, still unable to believe it. Father had always been strict, harsh, and unfair, but he wasn’t evil. He couldn’t have been. “I’m sure there was a—.”

“Sit down,” she instructed with a heavy sigh.

“Why?”

“Please. Just...sit. I need to tell you something,” she said, gesturing to one of the two chairs pushed up to a small wooden table. There was an edge to her words and Nathaniel did as he was told. Delilah sat down across from him, lips pressed into a worried line. “I had hoped you already knew, but you wouldn’t be defending Father if you did .”

“If I knew what?” He tried to imagine the worst thing his father could possibly do, but nothing that came to mind was horrible enough to warrant his sister’s grave expression as she reached across the table and placed her hand on his.

“A few days after Thomas left for Ostagar, Father led the Howe forces to Highever, and left me in charge of the Vigil. He said that he and Teyrn Cousland were going to march south together just as they had done during the rebellion. It had been quite sometime since I’d seen him so excited about anything.” She shook her head and laughed humorlessly, delicate fingers squeezing more tightly around his hand. “The next morning, a handful of our soldiers — five, maybe six— returned to the keep, frantic and covered in blood. They had deserted.”

“Desertion? But that’s a death sentence. Why would they come back here of all places?” It didn’t make sense, and he searched his sister for answers, but her gaze was fixed on the table, a hollow expression on her face.

“That’s what I asked them,” she answered with another laugh, bringing her eyes up to meet his, “They said they had been asked to do something far less honorable than desertion and figured it was worth the risk to tell me. Apparently, their commanding officers had purposely delayed their arrival to Highever on Father’s orders. Teyrn Cousland sent Fergus ahead to Ostagar with the bulk of the Cousland forces, leaving only a small contingent of guards behind. When the Howe men reached the castle in the middle of the night…” She paused, face contorting with what looked like grief.

“What, Delilah,” he urged leaning forward, “What happened?”

“They slaughtered the entire family in their sleep,” she said, tears dripping from her eyes and down her cheeks. “

Nathaniel released her hand and sat back in his chair, in shock. “No,” he protested, “That doesn’t make any sense. The Couslands are our closest allies.”

“Nathaniel,” she said gently.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t believe it. Father would never—.”

“Nate.” Her voice was more insistent this time, and he felt the weight of the news fall on his shoulders and settle in his chest.

“Everyone?” He knew it was a foolish question, but he had to ask.”Even —.” Liss. The name caught in his throat and he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

Delilah nodded somberly. “As far as I know, the only person who was not at the castle was Fergus, and… well, if he survived Ostagar, I wouldn’t know.”

Nathaniel stared straight ahead, focusing on a blank section of the wall behind Delilah’s head, so many feeling rushing through him that he couldn’t decide how to react. When he’d learned Father had been murdered, leaving his family in ruin, he left for Ferelden as soon as he could, filled with rage and a desire to make those who destroyed his family suffer. The Couslands were his family, too, and his father had them murdered for nothing short of callous ambition. He was conflicted, torn between holding onto the last shred of respect he had for the father he knew and blinding, white hot fury at the monster he had become.

“I never wanted anything from Father,” Nathaniel said quietly, holding back the storm that stirred inside for Delilah’s sake. Maker knew she didn’t need her only living relative to fall apart in front of her. “Other than for him to be proud of me. I followed every rule he had and never questioned his orders. I did everything he ever asked of me, no matter how much I disliked it. Do you know how much bloody restraint it took to not tell Elissa that I loved her?”

“You mean father is the reason you never…” She trailed off and smiled slightly. “I always assumed you didn’t have the nerve. I should have known better.”

“I wish I hadn’t tried so hard,” he continued with a heavy sigh. “It made me miserable, and it’s not as if I ever earned his favor. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I had rebelled a little, used my spine. Maybe I would have never had to leave. I could have been here, stopped Father… something. ”

Delilah leaned forward and took his hand again. “I know you’re sad, but please don’t blame yourself.”

“I’m not sad, Delilah,” Nathaniel snapped at his sister in a way she didn’t deserve, ripping his hand away from her and pushing his chair out from the table so forcefully that the table shook and nearly turned over, rattling the items that lay atop it, “I’m furious.”

“You can be both, Nate,” she replied quietly, calmly, and with a sympathetic expression. He was immediately embarrassed by his behavior.

“Sorry,” he said as he repositioned the table and chair, and straightened up the items on the table. “You’re right, of course.” He sat back down, and leaned forward, resting his elbows knees and face in his hands.

It was quiet for a moment with the exception of Delilah shifting in her seat. “Do you remember when Mother fell ill?”

“How could I forget?”

“Tom and I were inconsolable, and it was really upsetting to her. Father didn’t know how to handle the emotions we were feeling. Knowing what I know now, I’m not sure he had the capacity to.”

“Seems unlikely.”

“You did, though. You were always so kind and strong, cheering us up so Mother didn’t have to worry, and never showing how upset you really were. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Nathaniel sat up straight and looked at his sister curiously, unsure why she had brought up the past. “What’s this about?”

“I wasn’t able to be there for you before when we were all hurting. My own sorrow drowned it all out.” Her eyebrows pressed together and more tears fell from her eyelashes, “But I can be now, and I will be damned if I let you bottle this all away and carry it alone.”

“I… thank you.”

Delilah stood and moved around the table to place a hand on his shoulder. “I really am sorry. I know how much they meant to you.”

He smiled weakly and nodded, looking up at her, then doing a double take as his eyes passed her stomach. He was not certain whether it was the angle or if he’d been too distracted to notice before, but there was a definite roundness to her abdomen that caused him to recoil.

Delilah chuckled and brought a hand to rest on her belly. “Stop scowling. It’s rude,” she said, shoving him playfully with her other hand, “I was wondering when you’d notice.”

Nathaniel blinked a few times, standing slowly and placing his hands on her shoulders. “You’re pregnant.” It wasn’t quite a question, but it wasn’t a statement either.

“Really? I had no idea,” she offered him a mischievous smile and rolled her eyes.

“Sorry. I...I wasn’t paying attention,” he laughed, dropping his hands from her shoulders, embarrassed, “When are you due?”

“In the spring,” she hummed, “I have about three months to go, give or take.”

“That’s soon.” He tensed and examined his sister’s face for any signs of concern or worry, but there were none, so he relaxed.

“Mhmm.” Delilah nodded “Al and I are so happy.”

“I’m happy, too, for both of you.”

Delilah threw her arms around him in a sudden embrace and mumbled against his chest. “I’ve missed you, Nate.”

He returned the hug, and placed a kiss on top of her head. “I missed you, too.”

Just then there was a knock at the door, soft, tentative and Delilah broke the embrace, rushing to answer it. “Warden-Commander,” she said cheerfully, “I take it you are here to retrieve my brother?”

“Yes, my lady,” Lucia answered just as Nathaniel arrived at the door. She had a cut on her cheek, and blood was splattered across her armor. Behind her, Anders and Velanna stood, both looking worse for wear than when they had departed. Delilah stepped out from in front of the door to let him pass.

“Looks like I missed out on all the fun.”

“It was not fun,” Velanna spat.

“I thought you liked setting Templars on fire,” Anders teased.

Lucia just shook her head and ignored the bickering that then ensued. “Are you ready to go?”

Nathaniel looked back to Delilah, who simply nodded and made him promise to return to visit her as soon as the mess with the darkspawn was over. He gave his word, said goodbye, and left with Lucia and the others.

#dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #nathaniel howe #nathaniel howe x cousland #anders #velanna #temperance #update #my writing

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