What Once Was Ours
"He won't give his name, Commander." She looked at the guard as if he'd sprouted horns. "He was caught sneaking around the keep in the middle of the night. Just a thief too lazy to earn an honest living, if you ask me."
"What's your name again?"
He hesitated, as though even this easy question were too much for him. "Huh?"
"You do know your name, right? Was it Bumford?"
"Mumford, Commander." He didn't sound too confident. "Mumford."
"Close."
Turning around, she lifted a torch from the wall. With a kick of her booted toe, the chest containing the prisoner's belongings flipped open. Finely crafted armor and an Antivan longbow lay within. He's no thief, but an assassin.
Her hand waved toward the prisoner. "Why didn't you just hang him? This is a waste of my time." She rolled her neck and shoulders with a grimace.
"The seneschal said it was your call. He's only guilty of thievery, but he's a squirrelly one. It took four Grey Wardens to capture him."
"Is that so?" Inquisitive eyes went to the silent man sitting with legs bent at the knees. His expression was dark and unsettling, eyes glaring from the shadows, like a wolf sizing up his chances for pouncing on unsuspecting prey. The chains fastened to rings in the wall rendered him just able to reach the wooden pails on either side of him: one full of fresh water, and the other, a chamber pot. But the gruel in the corner was well out of reach. A mental note was made to assess the care of future prisoners with Varel. We are not barbarians, she thought while studying the prisoner, who managed to look quite striking despite the tattered state of his clothes and the grime surrounding him.
She paid particular attention to a deep gash on his forehead. Damn soldiers using too much force again. Beneath the few days' growth of facial hair and bloodied dirt smudges, the face was a pleasing one, reminiscent of… someone she once knew. He was in his late twenties, fit and lean. Beneath his simple shirt and trousers was, no doubt, the well-honed body of an archer, every muscle taut and ready for action.
"Interrogate him once more." The order came with a dark glare, and Mumford shrunk back.
"But we've tried everything short of torture, Commander." The higher pitch of Mumford's voice was not lost on her, but she'd decided he was a senseless clod, not worth a censuring.
"Then try torture," she said between gritted teeth. This idiot hasn't any idea how to torture someone. She stared down at her clenched fist as Mumford fumbled with the keys and unlocked the cell. Once inside, she lowered the torch, watching the firelight flicker across the prisoner's glowering face. He assessed her as well, with a hard, scrutinizing glare before spitting at her feet.
"Show some respect, you bastard." Mumford sneered and kicked him in the midsection, though not as hard as his windup seemed to aim for. The prisoner recovered quickly, with a mocking grin. The next blow landed firmly against his flank, and the Commander winced when she heard a rib snap, maybe two.
The prisoner's face contorted in pain, the impact knocking him over sideways before he twisted and rolled onto his back. Reflex action brought his arms up to protect his body, but Mumford's next kick was aimed to land solidly between his legs.
"Hold!" Her hand flew out without any hesitation, grabbing Mumford's shoulder and squeezing with a wild look in her eyes. Turning to the prisoner, a brief light of recognition registered in his stare. It was only momentary, as if he saw something familiar in her and now he was going to let her in on his secret. Her eyes narrowed. "Care to talk now, sneak thief?"
"Thief," he groaned. "You know nothing of me."
True, he was no ordinary cat burglar, but in the deep timbre of his pained voice, she had a flash of unwanted remembrance: Herself at fourteen or so, on her favorite mount, galloping toward a departing figure and shouting, "Wait for me!" Perhaps it was just the many tankards of ale she'd sampled the night before, alone in the kitchen, which muddled her hearing and sent her years back in time. For his part, the prisoner remained quiet and fixed in the same infuriating pose. Then again, he'd just been viciously booted in the ribs.
She smiled, almost laughing. "You're an assassin, aren't you?"
His eyes held her captive, locked with hers simply by force of will. He observed her, unwilling to respond. Well-composed for a man with at least one broken rib, a determined grit sharpened his features. He took measure of her again. And he was familiar, yet not. Her mind raced through every town, every skirmish she'd had during the Blight, but came up empty. Maybe he was just a soldier somewhere.
"Doesn't look like he has an answer, Commander. Should I prepare the gallows?"
A brief glance with wide eyes was all she offered the prisoner, but to no avail. "Yes, in two hours time. Give him a hearty meal and clean him up. We're not savages, after all."
"As you say, Commander."
The cell door slammed shut as she turned around, a strange sense of déjà vu raising the hairs on her arms. Halfway to the door, something ran through her like a knife blade, and she inhaled.
"Evangeline?"
That word. A word she hadn't heard or used in months but which used to mean something to her... about her.
"Evangeline."
She froze and stared at the door curiously. Did it drift out of her mouth and into reality? It was spoken calmly, reverently, nothing like the day it was shouted through bitter tears and idealistic dreams.
Joining the Wardens is an honor, Evangeline, not a punishment! If you allow Loghain to live, I will not stand next to him as a brother!
"Turn around, Evangeline."
Some things cannot be undone… or forgiven. I'll take the crown if that's what it takes to see Loghain get justice.
She couldn't blink away the waking nightmare. Her hands went to her head, squeezing her temples together. No, not again. Please….
Fine, you want Loghain as a Warden so badly, then I'll be leaving the Wardens to marry Anora. After all, it is what's best for Ferelden, as you said.
Everything had turned to ashes that day — a backward fairy tale. Palms pressed against her ears, she tried to block out the voices; the sound of his voice spitting her name, his final words to her, twisted and hateful, like the words of a man condemned. From that day forward, her name was not to be spoken, not whispered, not mumbled, not even spelled out on parchment. She was Commander Cousland and nothing more.
"Look at me, Evangeline."
Spinning on her heels, she glared at Mumford for having the audacity to call her by name, but he was staring at the prisoner.
"Evangeline Cousland. Conqueror of the Blight and vanquisher of all evil. Truly, I'm honored you'd waste a noose on a simple thief like me."
The flood of emotions was overwhelming now, the pain cutting so deep it felt like a blade piercing her belly. Long strides took her to the bars, her hands gripping them hard enough to whiten her knuckles. "Who are you?" she demanded with a faintly quivering voice.
Only the slightest narrowing of his eyes indicated the degree of confusion. "Do I not resemble my father?" He turned, his profile almost regal. "As the tale goes, you hacked him into pieces, saving his prominent nose as a trophy."
"Nathaniel?"
"So you do remember me." He seemed flattered, but still guarded.
"I thought…." Apprehension fluttered unrestrained in her chest. "I remember you."
Nathaniel had left his sweetheart despondent, with a pledge of certain return and eventual marriage, despite his father's adamant rejection of the idea. But his return never came. She'd pushed away every memory of him over the years, sealing off the place in her heart where he'd resided for so long. She hadn't even thought of him until the day she killed his father, and even then, it was a fleeting thought.
Her laughter rang out, not hiding the sheer ridiculousness of the moment. "Plenty of room in the jar for your nose too, you lying hypocrite." She'd scarcely said the words before she was sorry to let him into her mind. The tiniest moment of silence hung in the air, as though he were surprised, too.
"So you would hang me for wanting to reclaim all I have left of my past?" His resentment hid behind dark hooded eyes. "So much for Grey Warden honor."
"It's more than I have left, thanks to your father."
"Your family planned to sell us out to the Orlesians!"
"That's ridiculous," she scoffed. "Rendon Howe betrayed my father's trust. But you're no different than him, are you? Deception is in your blood."
"I've only just returned to Ferelden to find the Howe name stands for nothing but treachery and corruption, all lies spread by you, no doubt."
"Oh, poor Nathaniel. So clueless." She shook her head in mock sympathy. He was nobility born and bred, his traditional upbringing and deep-rooted principles similar to her own; at least prior to becoming the bewildered fool in front of her. "Here's a little something for you to ponder. At your father's orders, my home was burned to the ground and my family murdered, even the children, slaughtered like animals and left to rot in the sun. That is why the Howe name stands for everything vile in this world."
"I am sorry for your loss, Evangeline." A muscle twitched in his cheek. "I'd heard things, but…."
"Sorry for yourself, you mean."
He glanced away, as if embarrassed. "I was unaware of my family's doings for years. When I heard you had killed my father, I…." Nathaniel's eyes fell to the floor, shifting uncomfortably with an arm bracing his chest. "I came here for revenge, to kill you. But then I realized I only wanted some of our family heirlooms, as a remembrance."
"And I'll make sure you're set aflame with your cherished heirlooms. Any particular spot you wish for your final resting place, or should I just throw your ashes onto the dung heap by the stables?" The cool indifference of her words stung Nathaniel, just as his disappearance had pierced her heart years ago.
"Peevish Evie," he said softly as he'd teased her when they were younger, "you are not the same person I once knew." There wasn't judgment in his voice, but a whole range of emotions: disbelief, sadness, anguish, and if she dared to believe it, a hint of lost love. "I wish you no harm, Evangeline, and I believe you mean no harm to me. It was never like you to allow bitterness to consume your heart and twist your mind until you're blind to everything else."
"I'm no longer the mischievous girl who made mistakes, and you're not my knight in shining armor anymore. Therefore, this conversation is over."
He lowered his voice, frowning. "Do you remember how my father always said women were vain and deceptive, petty except for the people they hate? I believed that to be true then, but not about you. You might have been a tad too cynical, a little wily in your ways, but never did I think you were capable of this."
You'll get what's coming to you, Evangeline, like all backstabbers do, Alistair had said.
The darkness engulfed her, grimacing at the mockery of that final admonition, spoken with such hatred and vehemence it made her cringe even now.
"You were a fool then, and you are a fool now, Nathaniel. You've got two hours. Make the most of it." Distant and cold, she turned her back to him, facing the guard. "Tell Varel of my decision to hang him. When the time comes, I want every inhabitant of the keep in attendance, lest any of them ever think to cross me."
"Right away, Commander."
"And have Anders heal him." It was an afterthought, but it brought Nathaniel's gaze up to meet hers, the sudden warmth in his grey-blue depths stabbing her with unexpected longing. Had it truly been years since he'd held her so close that she felt as if she were a part of him?
Striding off with long, rapid steps, Evangeline broke into a sprint once outside the dungeon, and kept running. When she finally reached the sanctuary of her chambers, she collapsed to the floor in utter desolation.
Why had she ordered the execution of a friend whose only real crime was bearing the Howe name? He was kind-hearted and grounded, consistent, and never rash. Like a faithful mabari ready for another task, he was unwavering in his loyalty, but eager to argue his position with complete confidence if he disagreed, and all without emotional outbursts. Now he probably hated her. Even more, he disdained her, imagining the very worst things about her actions, without trying to see so much as a shred of good in her deeds.
Just like Alistair….
Alistair the idealist, a hopeless dreamer until she unintentionally forced his hand. What a fool she'd been.
Maker, why do you test me so? She tried to think of what horrible crime she could have committed to deserve this kind of punishment again.
Awaiting Nathaniel's escort from the dungeon, Evangeline and Anders stood in front of the gallows. Behind her, she felt the gazes of the somber merchants and stoic soldiers shifting with childlike restlessness as Nathaniel approached, a guard on either side of him.
Anders leaned closer to her. "I'm no stranger to death, but I'm sure I don't want a front row seat for this, not after talking to him. He's a likeable guy, open and honest, if a bit broody. We could do with another Warden, you know." His arm brushed hers, and she flinched from the contact, glaring at him, convinced he was doing it deliberately.
"Toughen up, Mage. You're a Warden, not a wet nurse."
"Why are you hanging him for wanting what rightly belongs to him?"
"You could have ended up with a noose around your handsome neck, too," she snapped. "And allow me to be clear…." She paused, giving him a sweet smile, but the smile turned to a cool grin as she leaned toward him, her hair swinging close to his own, and it was almost as if she were going to kiss him. "Just because we had sex the other night does not give you free rein to challenge my authority, Warden Anders."
"I didn't mean to…." He stopped, at a loss. This was beyond his scope of experience with women, the rancor and explosive irritability guiding her emotions. "I'm not questioning you, Commander. I'm just pointing out that you recruited me when the King's guard wanted to take me away for my supposed crimes, which in the eyes of the law were far worse than Howe's."
"Your point?"
"It's just me and the smelly dwarf. We need Howe. Besides, I can use an ally. Isn't that why you saved my life? For reasons other than recruitment?"
"True, there were no other appealing prospects until you came along. But surely you're familiar with the term 'fuck buddy'?"
"Absolutely, and I'm glad we're on the same page about that." Anders was more than relieved to hear this. Their one night together had said she accepted Anders for who he was, for everything he was, but that's where it ended.
"We've wandered away from the point, Anders, which is why the prisoner was sentenced to death in the first place." She watched as Nathaniel was led up the stairs, his eyes finding hers immediately. There was no reason for her to flush, and yet she did, as if watching him now was a perverted act. "He's hanging because he came here to kill me." Her monotone explanation came out as just a whisper. "Nathaniel is-" She gave Anders a sideways glance as his eyes widened with understanding. Shit! "The prisoner is guilty of breaking and entering with the intent to murder, and is, therefore, of no use to the Wardens. He dies."
Anders didn't buy any of it. "Back in Denerim, your brother told Oghren about Howe's past." Her head jerked around and Anders' mouth closed, awaiting her wrath, but all he received was a snort. "Poisons, stealth, politicking, tactical skills," he rattled off. "Not to mention he's one of the best archers in Ferelden, if not all of Thedas. Why don't you give Howe a second chance, like you did for me?" He paused as Nathaniel's sentence was read, the hangman awaiting Evangeline's nod. "Don't add this to your list of regrets." Anders gripped her arm. "Stop this, Commander."
Her eyes locked on Nathaniel's face, his eyes frosting over like a darkened lake on a winter's morning. She was captured by what she saw in the chiseled, resolute lines, the absolute determination, an all-consuming pride and fearlessness she remembered well. For a moment, she was an adolescent again, savoring the affection smoldering in his eyes, the tight embraces soothing her, the gentle touches on bloodied cuts from wooden practice swords, the smiles lavished upon her, rare smiles meant only for her.
A panic rose in her heart when she discovered herself to be contemplating such memories. "Varel, I wish to invoke the right of conscription on the prisoner!"
"Commander?" Varel questioned, dumbfounded by her proposition.
"Release the prisoner and prepare for the Joining, unless he prefers the noose."
Nathaniel was now faced with a choice between death and servitude to the Wardens, but the latter proved more appealing when he saw the conviction in her gaze, the absolute faith she had in her decision. His eyes burned into her, the intensity of his stare holding her so she couldn't look away. It was then he noticed the glassy look in her eyes, the silent request for forgiveness. He tipped his head in abrupt acknowledgement. The only sound was a collective sigh of relief from the crowd.
Then, amidst the rumblings and approving nods, time moved at lightning speed, every movement pure energy, intense and enveloping until the doors to the keep closed.
Varel took the chalice and held it out. "From this moment forth, Nathaniel Howe, you are a Grey Warden."
Nathaniel stared at it, then glanced up at Evangeline and noticed her eyes were fixated on him. Her lips slightly curved of their own volition, an automatic response to his reluctance.
Maker, let him live.
"The moment of truth…." A swallow was taken and he stumbled backward, falling to the floor unconscious.
Evangeline held her breath as Varel checked for a pulse. "The Howe lives."
"Anders, get him up to his new quarters, and see to his recovery." Although relief flooded her senses, this was just the beginning of his initiation.
Evangeline fled for the stables, hoping to find some measure of peace. There, she spent an hour brushing her horse's coat, lost in thought, a sense of inevitability bringing a little calm.
"Your horse is poorly shod," came a startling voice from behind. Nathaniel was looking well, and deadly serious.
"Guess what your first official duty as a Warden will be, then?" It wasn't much of a smile he offered, but a lopsided quirk of the lips, a softening of the shadows on his face. She found it rather endearing. "Nathaniel, I-" With furrowing brows, the right words were just out of reach.
That was all he needed though. Her mind had been in a desperate place, a place he was no stranger to. "My grandfather was a Grey Warden. I bet you didn't know that."
She shook her head. "Then your father would have been proud to see you as a Warden."
Ah, she was being sly. "So you're a mind reader. But I'm not so sure he'd be proud."
"Your whole life was spent trying to gain your father's approval, to rise above all his criticisms and put-downs. I know you are proud of your choices. Why do you still mourn his lack of faith in you?"
"Why do you still regret pardoning Loghain? Because the king tossed you aside? You were to be queen, but he ruined all your dreams of fame and glory, didn't he?"
"No!" Her hand flew to his face.
He caught it, squeezing it until he heard her gasp. "Don't you see? If you don't let go of the past, you'll be paralyzed in the present."
"You are saying this to me?"
"I am. Our old groundskeeper said my sister is married, living in Amaranthine. Delilah told him how my father sold elves into slavery, tortured innocents, everything I'd heard whispered but never believed."
"I wish it weren't so, for your sake."
"His betrayal, your lies... Part of me wanted to believe you all along. I'm sorry, Evangeline."
"So am I. More than you know." She managed a smile.
"Perhaps we should… try to pick up where we left off years ago, when things were simpler."
Her breath hitched. Was this his way of showing he still cared for her? "Do you remember the day I pushed you into that big mud puddle?"
"My sixteenth birthday. I was wearing a garish waistcoat from Orlais, as my father dictated for such a party. You humiliated me, but the next day I asked for your hand anyway." What had possessed him to do something so utterly irrational? "Such carefree moments are rare."
"But they shouldn't be." He went still as his eyes wandered the floor. "I can see your mind whirling and it can't be good. No brooding and that's an order."
He hesitated another moment. "As you wish, Commander."
"You can use my name when we're not in mixed company." She waved him forward and he joined her, ducking his head to hide his grin.
"I saw that, Nathaniel." She gave him a smile as intimate as a kiss then. "Let's get back before the rain starts."
Quickening her pace as dark clouds roiled overhead, she stopped short, spying a puddle, and without hesitation, rammed into Nathaniel, sending him onto his backside with a tremendous burst of muddy water.
Stunned into silence, he straightened his back, his face darkening. She giggled without guilt, reaching out a hand to help him up, but he snatched it, yanking her down into the muddy water alongside him. Like children being tickled, they found it difficult to stop laughing. When Evangeline sat up and turned, she was eye to eye with him. For a second, she thought he was going to take her into his arms and kiss her.
"Evangeline. I've always liked your name."
She moved a fraction of an inch closer. "Say it again."
"Evangeline."
The way he said her name, slowly, the word lingering on his tongue, pronounced like a precious thing, caused another spontaneous urge. "Why haven't you kissed me yet?"
"I'm being courteous."
"Don't be."
He brushed her lips in a whisper of a caress, neither greedy nor demanding. Yet by its very restraint, it unleashed a rush of emotion within her, setting her pulse to leaping. She sat back with a ragged sigh. "Exactly where we left off."
In a sudden crash of thunder, the moment was swallowed up, the sky pouring torrents of rain as they stood up. The water ran down them, washing away the dark veil of isolation clouding their minds, sending light into the deepest recesses, and sweeping the chaos of shattered dreams away.
"I'm anxious to hear if the Warden secrets include dancing naked by the light of the moon." He took her by the hand and led her, almost dragging her. "I want to hear everything, Evangeline."
She smiled. On his lips, her name sounded like a joyous song.
A/N: Written for a CMDA mid-year story swap for Letticiae. I had to keep this around a 4000 word limit and I really had more to say about these two. Not sure if I can see me actually writing more... Well, maybe a chapter or two. Grrr, just say no, zevgirl. Anyway, it did give me an extra push with my other stories, so I expect to update those one of these days, too. Thanks to my ever supportive friends, Biff McLaughlin for a great beta job, and to Zute for her feedback.