Title: To Memories
Rating: T
Summary: Tabris was once a servant when her mother was still alive. For the Howes. The memories have stuck with her, and when she is reunited with a man from a life so long ago, it is startling just how much she realizes. Nathaniel Howe/Tabris
A/N: Just got awakening and fell immediately in love with the ever serious rogue Nathaniel and Anders, Alistair's clone in mage form. Thank you for reading. Review please.
To Memories
Tabris stumbled and heard a ripping sound. One of the guards had stepped on her robes, and she cried out as if in pain. They didn't understand how long it took to scrimp and save for something so mundane as serving robes. Anger flashed in her eyes. She stood up, only to have a big, flat foot catch her in the back and throw her face down in the mud. She growled. "Well, look here, boys, she's gotten angry!" one of them laughed.
Another put a heavy boot in her stomach. She groaned, holding her belly as it throbbed with pain. Nausea welled up. "Stupid elf, don't you know that you belong on the ground?" The men roared with laughter. A haze in her head, she tried to get up again, fingers soaked with mud. The rain was heavy and fell as a thousand tiny weights. Kitchen Servant Rhaina would miss her right? They would come looking for her, right?
"I'd rather see you in my place," she growled, earning another kick to the gut.
She whimpered as the man with ginger hair stepped on her ankle from behind and yanked her red hair so that she was forced onto her knees. A dagger at her back, he licked the shell of her ear. Nausea formed in her stomach worse than before. She had to resist the urge to vomit on one of the shem's shoes. Arl Howe couldn't let his servants be treated like this! Especially not right in the middle of the courtyard! "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go somewhere dark, and we can apologize for our behavior."
"Why don't you go to hell, shem?" she hissed, fingers clawing at his hands where he held her hair. She didn't have time to weigh the consequences of her actions. Another one of those horrible boots flew straight at her face. It was probably the worst pain she'd ever felt at the time. It was almost as if her teeth had been kicked in. Pain exploded behind her eyelids. Because she couldn't fall backwards, gravity pulled her forwards, and she landed face first in a puddle of sticky mud.
She blacked out for a moment. Then, a hand grasped her ankle. She was being dragged. They laughed and joked around her, pointing and smiling. The hard stones rubbed her skin raw as she bounced over them. Disoriented by both pain and fear, it was difficult to get her head around the situation. With weak, muddy fingers, she clawed blindly at the stone and grass and dirt as it passed by. She tasted blood in her mouth. Her lip was split down the middle. Her hair was plastered to her head with mud. She couldn't find her voice.
The ginger haired man plunged his hand into her hair and yanked her to her feet, shoving her lithe body against the stony wall. She smacked it hard, falling immediately to the ground. He still had the dagger. She couldn't believe how they laughed at her pain. Maker, he was the same age as her father...
…
"Commander," a voice called.
She blinked but did not turn around. Often, they came to disturb her thoughts while she sat on the very top of the Keep, pondering the past and the future. Her hands unfolded from the hilt of her sword. She straightened her spine.
"Did you retrieve it?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, ser," replied the warden. Silently, Tabris stretched out her palm. In it, a hard teardrop shaped object was placed. A silver chain connected to the blue stone carved in the shape of the teardrop glittered in the moonlight. Magic rolled off of it in waves. Familiarity washed over her as she held it in her hand.
"You may go," she said, clasping it tightly in her hands. The trinket had saved her many times over. She hoped it would save her again.
"Uh, ser, the seneschel wants you in the throne room. It's...urgent, he says," she said nervously. One thing about being perched on the top of the Keep was that recruits were very reluctant to bother her. The height made them nervous, especially the warriors.
"Tell him I will be there shortly," she replied solemnly.
"Yes, ser," the warden saluted and left with awkward steps. The rogue smiled to herself, listening closely for the recruit to find her way down. When she was at last gone, Tabris sighed. A summer breeze toyed with her hair. She missed the smell of rain.
…
The ginger haired man made another gash on her arm just as large and painful as the first. She didn't cry or whimper or even give them the satisfaction of watching her fight back. If she fought back she would be in trouble. But as they punched at her small body and added to the bruises she'd received already, she wondered if perhaps fighting back would be worth her job and life. The ginger man cut her hair, letting the tresses flutter to the ground like lost dreams. Angry hands grabbed her, and she was suddenly forced to the ground.
They held her down, each one claiming a limb. The leader, the ginger man, used his dagger to cut the robes she was wearing in half. Dizzy from their constant battering, she squirmed very little, simply clenching and unclenching her fingers, trying to feel the left side of her face. She knew what was coming next. Her mother had warned her not to go to a Lord's castle because the men there were savages, not having seen a woman in months. She was actually grateful that the final violation was coming. It meant they couldn't beat her anymore. At that point, she realized that no one was coming for her. No one cared about a stray elf from the kitchen...no one but her mother...
Blood sprayed across her face. Lazily, she glanced up. The head of an arrow stuck straight out of the neck of the man holding her right arm. The rest sprang away from her quickly, cowering against the wall as if afraid. The loss of weight on her limbs was so sudden, she couldn't even register it at first. A thought bubbled to the forefront of her mind. They were gone, and she simply had to get away. Her head was too heavy to carry. Flipping onto her stomach, her arms shook as she tried to stand. She crawled so slowly to her feet that she was sure they would be upon her again. Wobbling as she stood and trembling with cold and fear, it was a wonder that she took off at a run and ran smack into the broad chest of another shem at the end of the alley.
"Let me go!" she screamed finally finding her voice. Softer, gentler arms grabbed her forearms and shook her until she stopped thrashing.
"Calm down, woman! You're safe now," a deep, rumbling voice said. A voice that she recognized. Nathaniel Howe. Cold fear fell in her gut like a stone. Not fear for losing her life, but fear of losing her job. She wrenched away, feeling tears in her eyes at last.
"Y-You can't! I didn't do anything! Please, s-ser," her voice shook, but it was loud and nearly hysterical. Nathaniel appeared as if he wanted to comfort her but had no way of doing so. "I-I was sent to g-get more wine for-for your d-dinner. I-I'm so-so sorry! P-please, ser, I'll get straight back to work!" Shaking from the cold rain, she stood, wiping the blood from her face with white fingertips.
Nathaniel stepped around her, facing the men. "Who dares do hurt one of my servants? Who dares to touch this woman?"
Clearly diminished under the wake of Nathaniel's fury, the leader stepped forward. Amusement was still there in his eyes. He walked with a swagger. "We were just playing a game, my Lord. Ask the little elven wench. She was completely willing. We weren't finished yet, but as she said, she's willing to go back to work, ser."
"You bastard!" she screamed, jerking toward him in a frenzy. She had sewn her own fate with those words previously. Surely no lord would believe an elf over a soldier, even if the evidence was as damning as if he'd admitted it. Nathaniel caught her before she got too far and fought to keep a grip on her bruised arms.
"Shut up, you whore," he sneered. "The game's over. Sorry, sweetheart, but you need to get back to work." The other men laughed, sure they were in the clear.
…
"You do that a lot, don't you? Stare off into space?" Anders asked from behind, Ser Pounce-a-Lot purring contentedly in his arms. She straightened, lost in her own thoughts more than usual. Shooting him a smile, she stood and stretched. "You know, I knew a lot of mages who did that. Lost their minds. Went mad, they did. We'd all hate for that to happen to you."
"I just have a lot on my mind, Anders," Tabris said, sheathing the cleaned dagger in the leather pouch at her back.
"I get it, I get it," he said quickly. "The dwarves are blowing up the Keep again. Something about the walls not being tough enough to stand up to explosives. I don't know."
"What?" she whirled around. "Again?"
"Again," he admonished.
"Damn," she sighed. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. "Where's Nathaniel? You seen him?"
"Nope," said the mage. "I've heard he left to brood in the forest. Kind of spacey like you've been these past few days. Something you want to share?" Ser Pounce-a-Lot meowed in his arms.
"Not at all." She began to walk away.
"Oh, come on, I love gossip!" called Anders. Her dog started to its feet and loped to join her. His hot breath blew on the palm of her hand.
She left the mage standing there, wondering.
…
Nathaniel strode toward the leader of the pack and cocked back his arm. Next moment, he had plastered the man across the face with his fist. She jumped, eyes flying to the bow on his back. It had...been Nathaniel who had killed that man. Why would a Howe save an elf?
"If you ever lay a hand on one of my servants again, you will all be hanged for treason. Back to your posts, now!" The words were so quiet over the rain that everyone had to strain to hear them. Pure venom backed them up. Each of the men scrambled to their feet and were gone faster than she would have thought possible. Nathaniel's hand darted out to catch the back of the collar of the leader. "Stop."
"S-ser?" stuttered the man.
Nathaniel glared at him. "Report to my sister. Tell her what you have done. She will arrange a punishment for you. If I find it is too lenient or that you have lied to her, I will have you hanged anyway."
"I-yes, my Lord!" he saluted and ran away.
Tabris took a steadying breath, ready to receive any punishment Nathaniel decided to give her. It was not the first time she had ever been nearly raped. Or beaten. It wouldn't be the last. The world spun as she began to think of what would happen if she lost her job. The family would starve. They couldn't live on what Shianni made alone. When she nearly toppled, Nathaniel was there to steady her again. The last thing she expected was for him to hoist her into his arms and carry her away.
"S-ser! P-please! I must return to the kitchen. The cook will have my hide!" She struggled but gasped in pain when a sharp stabbing sensation exploded by her ribs.
"I'm sure she'll forgive you," he said quietly.
He carried her all the way to the kitchen. Hot air from the stove washed over her frigid skin. Shianni screamed and ran toward her, hand wiping the bloody hair from her face. "Maker, cousin! What happened?"
"G-guards," she shivered. "Outside."
"Matilda! Get some hot water on the fire. She's freezing to death!" Nathaniel came back to drape a cloak around her shoulders. Shianni rubbed at the fabric, trying to create friction on her cousin's arm. The elf didn't seem particularly worried about the Howe.
Matilda hesitated. "Dinner will be late! Mhani will beat us all if we don't hurry it up."
Shianni whirled on her. "My cousin is more important than any Lord's meal! Get me some hot water, now!" Frightened, Matilda nodded. "Maker, I knew I should have gone with you. Look at all this blood."
"D-don't fuss," Tabris sighed.
Suddenly, Tabris's cousin leaned in close. "Did they touch you?" The robes were torn to shreds. It certainly looked as though they had. She couldn't recall much other than the violence.
"No," she replied. Matilda appeared from one of the corridors off of the kitchen with a steam bowl of hot water. She placed it on the table and began shooing the other elves away.
"Come on! It's happened before, it'll happen again! The lot of you needs to get back to cooking or we'll all get the switch!" The others grudgingly wandered back to their places. Once again, the kitchen was abuzz with the bubbling of cauldrons and the crackling of fires. Matilda, Shianni's second in command, began to order the elves about in preparation for the third course of dinner.
"They did a number on you, cousin," Shianni said, saturating a torn rag in the hot water and gentle wiping at Tabris's face.
"They usually do," was her reply. The warm water on her face felt nice. It washed the mess so that everyone could see her pale skin. Ugly bruises were forming on her face. Bottom lip split, left eye blackened, and tiny slashes across her arms and neck: she looked quite the horror show. Shianni's eyes shone with angry tears. Tabris grabbed her warm hand and held it tightly.
Nathaniel, who had been hovering in the background, put a hand on Tabris's shoulder. "I apologize for the way my men have treated you. I will be speaking to my father about this."
Shianni narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Oh, will you, shem? It was your kind that did this, and it's not the first time either. Just admit that you don't care and leave."
Tabris hissed at her, "Be respectful, cousin."
"I won't," Shianni snapped. She turned back to Nathaniel. "Why are you still here, shem? Do you know how often this happens to my cousin? What, do you have a little contest amongst your men, a whole sovereign to whoever can rape the youngest elf?"
Horror flashed in Nathaniel's eyes at the very thought of such a contest, but he quickly masked it. So quickly that Tabris wondered for a moment if she'd imagined it. He let his hand fall and apologized once again for the behavior of his men, walking out into the rain. Tabris smacked Shianna's shoulder.
"Are you completely mad? That was Nathaniel Howe you were just talking to! You might have cost us our jobs, you fool," Tabris growled unpleasantly.
"Jobs or no, it isn't right that they can do this to you," Shianni told her, wiping the rag over what was sure to be a black eye. "He'll talk to his father...ha! The second he does that, the game will really begin!"
"Enough, Shianni," Tabris sighed. "Just help me get bandaged up and get back to work. I think my ribs are broken..."
…
Tabris wasn't familiar with the woods around the Keep. If there was an instinctual feeling that elves got when surrounded by flora and fauna, she was seriously lacking in it. As subtle as a ogre, she trampled through the forest, stepping on any flora she could find and scaring away an fauna that happened to be in the vicinity. Being a rogue, she thought that traversing the woods quietly would be easy. It wasn't. She eventually stumbled upon a clearing in the middle of seemingly nowhere. Her foot caught on a root and her lack of balance thrust her forward into the clearing. She fell on her hands and knees.
There was a waterfall. First the scent of water caught her attention, and she glanced up rather quickly. A bean-shaped pond lay in the middle of nowhere with a steep, beautiful waterfall filling up the deep. She was curious as to how the place had never been on any maps she'd studied of the Keep. Even after a few years of being the Arlessa of Amaranthine. Still, nothing. And Nathaniel hadn't mentioned anything either.
"Tabris?" came a distinctly gruff voice, horrified. A blush creeping up to tinge her neck pink, Tabris jumped to her feet and laughed a bit with embarrassment.
"Nathaniel. Good to see you," she smiled sheepishly.
"A bit ungraceful for a rogue, aren't you?" he noted, folding his arms, a slightly amused smile on his lips.
"Oh, yes, because you are the epitome of grace, good ser," she replied sarcastically. "I saw you stumble down the steps a few days ago, so don't you say anything."
"I was half asleep, that doesn't count," he argued.
"We were being attacked," she said, "it most certainly did count!"
He grunted, looking past her into the giant path she had carved. "What are you doing here, anyway, Tabris? You're a half a mile from the Keep, so don't tell me you were going for a walk."
"I got lost?" she tried, half-smilling.
"You never get lost," he replied. It was true. She had maps to everything. If she didn't have one, she made sure to get one before leaving anywhere.
So straight to the hard questions, was it? She sighed. "I was looking for you. You've been gone from the Keep for three days now. We were getting worried."
"I told Anders I was coming here. Did he not relay the message?" Nathaniel raised an eyebrow.
"Obviously he did, else I wouldn't be standing here," she said. "But three days is a little much, Nathaniel, for a simple walk. If you wanted a vacation, you should have said something yourself. Anders didn't see fit to tell me until six hours after your departure."
He turned away from her so that she could only see his profile. "I had some thinking to do. So did you, I think, perched atop the Keep like you were."
"Yeah, I have the windburn to prove it," she muttered, touching her cheek.
He didn't answer. It was a shame because the topic could have been avoided. She was teasing, trying not to get too serious, but Nathaniel was always serious.
"Look, Nathaniel, we were both drinking that night," she said, walking out in front of him so that he was forced to look at her. "It was just one kiss. Why does it have to change so much?"
"You don't understand," he shook his head, taking in the slim curve of her waist, the plumpness of her breasts in the dark green chemise, her innocent face. "I haven't kissed a woman in...well, since I left. And it wasn't really voluntarily. I haven't ever kissed a woman because I wanted to."
"Well, I haven't kissed a man since I was back at the alienage," she told him. "Do you know how long ago that was? Such a long time. And I've never kissed a human. We're adults, though, and this doesn't have to affect us so much."
"It was wrong of me," he growled, frustrated more with himself than with her. "And kissing you...why did I suddenly remember that you were the ill-tempered little elf at my father's castle? The one my men were always after? Looking at you, seeing you fight and covered in blood never triggered the memory. Why would something like that do it?"
"You know why," she replied darkly.
He chuckled low. "Yeah, I guess I do. I don't want to connect that with you, though. It's inappropriate. You're my warden-commander."
She put a hand on his chest. He was so much bigger than her, robust, human. Folded in his arms that night, she had felt so tiny. "It was just one kiss, Nathaniel. It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to." Sincerity coated every word, but he didn't relax. He grabbed her by the shoulders almost as if he meant to shake her.
"But that's just the thing! I can't get you out of my head. The smell of you, your lips. I keep dreaming about you, about your time at my castle. You are so irresistibly beautiful, and you aren't promised to anyone! I have no excuse to stop thinking about you, and it is so frustrating!" he seethed, burying his head against her shoulder, grip loosening. "I hate it. You're driving me mad, woman." She lay both of her hands on his head and smiled.
"If you have no excuse to stop thinking about me, why stop?" she murmured. He lifted his head, black eyes boring into hers.
"It's not right," he said, though he was staring at her lips with such a burning desire that she shivered.
"It's wicked," she agreed. He leaned in, swallowing.
"We shouldn't do this," he murmured. He smelled so unbelievably wonderful, like soaps and spice and human.
"I killed your father," she whispered, and he kissed her so deeply that she thought he'd drag her very soul from within her. It was nothing like the kiss she'd shared with him while drinking. That had been clumsy, a soft, playful kiss, flavored with ale. This was deep and hard and precise. He knew what he wanted, and she'd given him a reason to take it. He drew her close, squeezing her lithe body to his hard, human one forcefully. She kissed him back as his hand tangled in her red hair, the other forming a bar across her back and refusing to let her move.
That was when Soranni leaped from the bushes and barreled into Nathaniel, barking as though he were an enemy. Nathaniel let go of Tabris in a minute, alarmed. Tabris, winded, shushed her dog, holding out her hands and calling for him.
He stopped barking at Nathaniel and went to his master immediately. "He's not attacking me, don't worry boy." As if to assure him, she reached out and took Nathaniel's hand. She glanced up at Nathaniel awkwardly. "Sorry, he's never seen me in the arms of another man."
"Never?" Nathaniel blinked, surprised.
"Never," she admitted.
"This will take some getting used to," he sighed. "But that makes me ridiculously happy."
She smoothed back Soranni's ears and stood up. "Why don't we go back to the Keep? I'm sure everyone is missing us."
He kissed her again. "All right."
..
It was later when they were drinking again that they accidentally kissed in front of Oghren, and he wasn't willing to let it go. He bolted out of the front of the Keep, screaming it to the heavens that finally Tabris had found someone to 'mess up the hay' with. Tabris had watched him go, smiling to herself before propping up her cup of ale and meeting Nathaniel's gaze.
"To memories?"
"To memories," he smiled and leaned over to kiss her again.
Another fic I never finished! And yes, Soranni is a combination of Soris and Shianni. I'm just that amazing. Thank you for reading. Review, please. Oh, and ffn is really fucking with my layout, so the memories are italics and the normal is present. Sorry, I keep trying to fix it.