Chapter 2

Bargaining For Scores Is Cheating

Amaranthine was silent.

Elissa watched the streets from the chantry window. Completely empty except for the bodies, some she had killed, some civilians she hadn't been able to save. They should have told her. They'd been ravaged by Darkspawn sickness for days, and not a word had been sent to her. She could have told them about the smugglers caves, could have started an evacuation, could have done something. Now her friends were fighting and dying because she couldn't defend both strongholds at once. Those stone walls had better hold, she wasn't above hunting Voldrik down in the fade and killing him twice.

It would be alright. Sigrun, Justice and Velanna would keep the hold standing. She'd made the right decision. Civilians first. She couldn't abandon the capital to run back and defend her own Keep, no matter how strongly the army objected. They could just get over it, she knew about sacrifice, it was hard, but you just did it and didn't think too hard about the future without the things you'd given up.

"That's a very severe look you're giving the empty street."

Elissa whipped around and relaxed as she saw Nathaniel browsing the bookcase. "Just keeping it in check."

"That was a tough decision you made today. Saving Amaranthine, I mean."

She sat down on her bedroll with a heavy sigh. Nathaniel would understand if anyone would.

"Do you have a problem with it?"

"No, but it does confuse me. Vigil's Keep is your home."

"Grey Wardens sacrifice themselves to save cities, we don't sacrifice cities to save ourselves."

"I'm not questioning you." He sat down across from her on folded legs. Elissa nodded, he was trying to be an open ear for her to whinge to, which was a very tempting thought.

"I just don't want to talk about this, I'm going to be explaining this decision to people for months. I'm sure there's going to be at least one clear cut choice in my life, and when it comes, I'm going to hold a damn parade."

Nathaniel laughed, a pleasant enough sound. Elissa couldn't help but smile. She'd never expected to become friends with the son of Rendon Howe, but here she was. He'd been a comfort and a boon to her, she should probably take the time to thank him for vandalising her Keep one of these days, if he hadn't she'd have to put up with Anders and Oghren without any buffer room. Now there would have been a group that ended up lost with no pants.

"Then tell me about something else."

He wouldn't quite meet her eyes as he spoke, his lean fingers threaded together in what she thought to be a little bit of anxiety. Elissa cocked her head, smiling.

"What would you like to know?"

"Tell me about an orphaned Grey Warden who is sweet, a little awkward and has romantic dreams. Possibly one obsessed with vengeance."

Ah. So he remembered that, apparently. She wasn't completely sure what she'd said that night, but it pleased her that the pain in her chest was more like a knife wound than an explosive grenade, the kind of pain she could smile around and talk around. Figures he'd remember her half-drunken rambling when no one seemed to be able to hold onto information like 'flank them, don't rush them' or 'stay out of the Maker damned wine for one night'.

"He was an ex-templar of some note. Very skilled in killing mages, cracking jokes and making me want to light myself on fire."

"On fire? I see."

Elissa laughed and shook her head. "So infuriating. He could never stay serious for more than about three minutes at a time, and this was during a Blight, there were situations that called for gravity. But he was sweet and funny, and an amazing leader when he put his mind to it."

"I didn't think templars generally took wives." Nathaniel's tone was even, testing the waters and not pushing her to talk if she didn't want to. She could joke her way out of it if she needed to, he was giving her that space. Well, she wasn't about to tell him that the man was the High King of Ferelden, but she was comfortable talking with him about some of it.

"They don't, I guess. I wouldn't really know. The Blight changed things. You get the speech when you sign up, you know, Grey Wardens do their duty, no matter what that means. And sometimes it means some pretty amazing things. Sometimes you have to choose the king of Orzammar without having any idea on his policies or personality. That was fun. Or you drink some crazy blood juice in the old Warden's Keep that lets you spurt blood out of your elbows when needed. My templar needed an heir, that was his duty, and I couldn't give him one."

"That seems a little callous."

"Isn't it, though?"

Elissa realised that a tear had trickled down her cheek without her noticing. She tried to shake it away, but her companion reached out and smoothed her cheek with his fingers. She blushed, unused to such contact. Neither moved for a moment, their eyes locked, then he snatched his fingers back.

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"No, it's..." There was no way to tell him what she was thinking without sounding like a mad woman. It was nice to feel blood running under someone's skin instead of splattered across her face. It was nice to feel muscle and sinew intact and working instead of squelching under her fingers. "I kind of gave up on appropriate a while ago."

Nathaniel smiled. "I can see why. I don't know what I really expected on returning to Amaranthine, but it wasn't this. You know I trained for years in the Free Marches, and never had a fraction of the adventure I've with you over the last month. Fate is funny like that, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry for what happened."

"What?"

Elissa took a deep breath. She'd been thinking about this for weeks. Rendon Howe had just been 'Howe' in her mind for so long, but that was no longer fitting. She'd been insane with rage for that man, she'd torn apart an entire country just to get to him. But he wasn't 'Howe' anymore. Nathaniel was Howe. As in 'Howe, take out that archer.' 'Howe, come get some food before Oghren finishes the lot.' 'You're with me, Howe, let's rescue a city.' Howe was one of the many who was caught up in the war, his family killed, his lands and title stripped. One of the many who came home to nothing, who had nothing to come home to, just like her.

"I'm sorry for the part I played in what happened to you. You were blameless in all of this and you didn't deserve to have your life taken from you."

"I... Thank you." He looked completely dumbstruck by her sudden confession. His lips pursed, his brow furrowed. "I wanted to ask you something, and I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but he was still my father. You probably think me foolish for still having it on my mind, but did he... did he suffer? At the end?"

Elissa leaned back heavily against the stone wall. There weren't any answers here that he'd like, but he might never sleep soundly again if he didn't know how it ended. She could do that for him. She tried to keep her face and voice neutral, the events like a historical account.

"He had Anora hostage. Queen Anora, at the time, and not so much a hostage as bait. I still don't know what exactly they were trying to accomplish, but we had to take the magical barrier off the door one way or another and the mage was at his side. Myself, an assassin named Zevran, the witch Morrigan and... and a templar, we confronted him but there was no possibility of a peaceable solution. We killed the mage first, then his bodyguard. Howe was a tough blighter, if it hadn't been all four of us I might have been there all afternoon. He fought until the end, never tried to surrender, and although he didn't feel he had been paid his due by this end, he died as a warrior. There was no cruelty."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. She watched him digest the information, hoping it might bring him some peace. He closed his eyes, she wondered if he was trying to picture this all happening. It didn't hurt to talk about Rendon Howe anymore. Her family was better than to be taken apart by the likes of him, and he wasn't worth her reverie.

"You said there was no hope of a peaceable solution." Nathaniel spoke suddenly, surprising her. "You would have tried? There was a chance of my father walking out of there alive?"

"I... Well..." Elissa blushed furiously.

Your compassion shames me.

The voice of the paragon Caridian rung in her ears.

"You would have let him walk away?"

"No. I wouldn't have just let him go. But his death didn't solve anything, it certainly didn't bring my family back, maybe there was some penitence he could have made, I don't know. But he was so set on destroying the Cousland house entirely that there was no chance, one of us wasn't walking out of there."

Yep. He was looking at her like she'd lost her mind. He wasn't really that outraged that she would have liked to show his father mercy, was he?

"You think he could have been redeemed? You would have even given him that chance, the chance to go out into the world and wreak more havoc?"

She scowled. "I don't have to explain myself to you, I'm your commanding officer."

Nathaniel sighed and ran his hands through his hair, looking around the room while he calmed himself. He was holding some raging internal monologue, she was sure, but he seemed to get a little more composed.

"Then don't tell me because I'm your grunt, or an interested party. Tell me because I'm your friend. We are friends, aren't we?"

"Yes, I suppose we are. I wasn't about to let Howe go back to his throne room and plot my demise, but who knows? He might have done some good with his life had it continued. I don't believe that evil runs unchecked. I know that might be hard to believe, considering all we've seen, but I just don't."

"Then what do you believe?"

"What do you believe?" she countered.

"Me? I believe justice must be swift and unyielding. I believe traitors have to die."

Elissa cocked her head, assessing him. Yes, he was serious. That wasn't an unreasonable point of view, and certainly better than a few she'd come across in her travels. The most common and unsettling point of view seemed to be that a person's life was only worth what they could do for more powerful people. Morrigan had thought that there was no way Arl Howe could ever be useful to them. Zevran had thought he posed a threat and should therefore be put down. Alistair had thought a simple death was too merciful, that there was no punishment too great for his treachery.

"She wields the broken sword and separates true kings from tyrants."

"What?"

"Archon Hessarian said that to me. Yes, the Archon Hessarian. Maybe I could have picked a better font of knowledge, but he was speaking of mercy. If you kill and kill and just keep killing until everyone who isn't worthy of living is dead, then what? I don't believe more death is the only way, I don't believe in the Maker, but I know there's something better than a sword to carve a new path with. People have the ability to heal, I've seen it."

Nathaniel nodded slowly. "Archon Hessarian converted after Andraste's death. Do you think... my father would ever have done something good for the world, if he had lived?"

"I'd like to think so. Maybe I'm just naïve."

"I wouldn't have thought the same, but I'm humbled to know someone so merciful."

Elissa found herself feeling a little sick at her confession. Her father had begged her for vengeance as he died, and she had fulfilled that promise. There was no point thinking on what might have been, no point in wanting redemption for some hypothetical alternate to the man himself, and she couldn't believe that she had just confessed that to his son. Her stupid, naïve belief in people's goodness had cost more than a few people their lives. And it hadn't stood up when Loghain might have been saved and redeemed.

"Don't. How did we get to talking about such a sombre topic? We should be bragging about our conquests or taking bets on how many we'll kill tomorrow, that's what friends do before battle."

She looked into Nathaniel's eyes and found they brooked no humour. She could almost feel his contained blood under her fingertips. Warm, lean, constant. He really did admire her unreasoning faith. He understood, like her he had no home to run to, no one to turn to if the world fell down around his ears. He knew what it meant to make the world what he wanted it to be.

"This may be too bold, my lady, but I'm not sure I want to be friends."

For a moment time seemed to stand still, the words filtering into Elissa's brain one by one, then coalescing together and finally the meaning sinking in. The first reply that came to her mind was to ask him if this was because she had nice legs, but she crushed that thought, she wasn't going to joke her way through this. It made people want to light themselves on fire.

Their fingers touched, threaded together. It was tentative, they stayed seated a few feet apart, like youths who didn't quite know how their bodies fit together, leg over thigh, hands wound through hair, so they could touch and kiss easily. His fingertips brushed her cheek and she blushed. She pushed herself forward, kneeling between his legs. The undignified rush of past couplings was nowhere to be found, each touch was deliberate and careful, hands placed strategically, almost awkwardly, to bring them closer.

Their noses touched and Elissa took the first step, bringing her mouth over his. It was just a touch of lips, then they broke, eyes meeting, judging the situation. She slid a hand over his shoulder, down his back. The artery in his neck thrummed in the crook of her elbow. Alive, whole and strong, warm to the touch. His arms wrapped around her waist, bringing them together more naturally. Maker, he understood. He understood her, knew her need, knew her hurt. He didn't make pointless apologies, he just proved himself through deed.

Their kisses became fevered, and for the first time in months Elissa could swear her heart was beating again. All this time she thought she needed space, what she really needed was to stop thinking about him. It didn't seem to matter that Nathaniel's shoulders and hips were a little narrow, or that his hair teased her neck, her whole body sighed in relief as they inched closer and breathed harder.

He was lean and lithe, strong, all working muscles and flowing blood, untarnished by wounds or burns. The stone didn't seem quite so hard against he back as it could have, the incense in the air smelled sweet and burnt against sweat and leather. She whimpered desperately, alive after months in limbo, her heart beating, feeling returning to necrotic muscle. It burned, skin screaming, a pleasant tingle gone too far until the air around them seemed to crackle with tension so highly strung between them that Elissa thought its breaking might damage them.

The fever broke in whimpers and taut muscles, in screaming sensations that tore through them mercilessly, fresh memory of times too far past for both of them. Elissa tightened her legs around his hips, not giving him an inch to move, to pull away from her and deprive her of his warmth and strength.

When they collapsed, trembling and satisfied, she let Nathaniel wrap his arms around her. Her breathing didn't want to return to normal, and her belly quivered at such exertion from muscles unused for so long, but when she let the Fade claim her, she felt more calm than she could remember.

Nathaniel had known her decision before she spoke it. The architect, in all his gruesome glory, watched the Arlessa pace, his gaze even, as if they had all the time in the world. She took more time than any of them were comfortable with coming to a decision, occasionally spouting strings of foul language that would make the most battle worn soldier blush, and left Howe himself a little taken aback, he wouldn't have thought she even knew such language, let alone used it. But she was livid.

The decision was already made. This was a chance to heal, to find a better way, even if it was a long shot. This was mercy. Her long hair flicked like a horse's tail as she shook her head sharply, fingers twisting around each other, teeth bared. Oghren and Anders were beside him, trying to counsel her, insisting that no good would come of this. She shot them looks that instantly shut their mouths.

"You have an ally," she finally said. "For now."

There was a general cry of outrage from the rest of the party, but she locked eyes with Nathaniel, ignoring them. He gave her a slight nod. Once more he couldn't see how she could be so sensible in the face of an age old hate, but that might have been his folly, not hers.

A few quietly muttered words to Oghren saw them on their way.

Elissa was less calm as they moved forward. He wanted to reassure her that he supported her decision, but soon it became obvious that there was more on her mind than what had transpired with the architect. She was sloppy in combat, her blades moving with a fury he couldn't follow. Her killing became more brutal, it was not just the slaying of beasts that stood in her way, now she tore into them with almost barbaric rancour. She was more like a berserker than a skilled dual wielder.

She ripped the spine clean out of a disciple and handed it to Anders, moving away as the white-faced mage looked at the object in his hands and then threw it away with a yelp. Soon the Darkspawn blood began to burn, trickling down the back of his tunic, searing a line of fire between his shoulder blades. All he could smell was the blood and the fire, the scorched lyrium dust from his grenades. All he could see was a field of bodies under a red sky, a flailing future victim down the sight of his arrows.

Elissa moved with purpose, and it was when a high dragon fell atop them from the sky, falling swiftly under her threshing blades, that he identified the emotion that had overtaken her. A sob escaped from her lips as the dragon fell, her left sword clattering out of her shaking hand.

She was terrified.

"Keep it together, Warden," Oghren hissed. "This isn't the deep roads."

Elissa swallowed thickly and nodded, collecting her sword. Another round of Darkspawn fell before them.

Nathaniel had heard at the final battle against the Archdemon the group that had pushed through had been outnumbered a hundred to one, and he hadn't believed it until today. His arms ached from drawing his bowstring again and again, his eyes wouldn't cooperate, wandering when he needed to aim, his body screamed with exhaustion. But he kept going, forcing himself forward. Anders looked like he might combust if he channelled anymore magic from the Fade. Elissa and Oghren showed no signs of fatigue. How many bodies had they left in their wake?

The end came into sight hours later. A pit that Nathaniel could see held some mass of flesh, visible even from their great height. Elissa's eyes tightened. Her lips pressed together so firmly they turned white. Some rotting, infernal stench filled the air.

"When we fight her, I'll go in, nobody else attack her directly, just cover me. Anders, save your lyrium for healing. Don't be conservative with potions and poultices, everyone. Use whatever you need. Oghren, Nate, you have the hard job, keep Anders and I clear and casting, got it?"

Her eyes closed for just a beat, hardly more than a blink. She gripped her swords tightly and headed down the stairs.

The broodmother was monstrous. They had fought abominations both figurative and literal, and nothing prepared Nathaniel for this. She had once been a woman. A woman overtaken by the Taint. His eyes held onto Elissa, knowing why she was afraid now. This is what the Darkspawn would do to her, if they could. As the Taint she intentionally swallowed slowly ravaged her body, maybe she'd turn even if they never laid a hand on her. Oh, Maker, please don't let that happen to her, he begged. Don't ever let that happen to her.

The architect's spirit appeared and they spoke, but the commander never moved her gaze from the broodmother. The beast's words rolled off her back, unquestioned, her sword already brought to bear.

Nathaniel stood well back, and when the hostility started he let arrows fly, one after the other, a second wind brought on by his rage. An army appeared from thin air, tentacles sprouting from the ground, the brood coming to their mother's defence. He tried to keep them down, but there were too many and he could only hit so many at a time without drawing their attention. Oghren's massive blade hewed through them like they were made of paper.

The commander's massacre was a sight to behold. Ripples of power, brought forth from the fade, made the air around her sing. The death of each minion strengthened her as she breathed in their essence, devouring tainted souls to feed her frenzy. She was single-minded. The broodmother bled and screamed, horrific pincers flailing, flicking venom as she tried to fight back.

Nathaniel sent an arrow into the carapace of a childer that tried to attack her from behind. The monster struck out at her in its death throes, sending her helmet skittering across the ground and baring her face. The childer gave a final wheeze and stilled.

The broodmother was tough, taking blow after blow and not faltering. It wasn't until Elissa landed a blow to her face that he knew it was over. The mother screamed, her tattered mouth contorting in rage. She lashed out, catching the commander by surprise. One venomous pincer landed a clear blow to Elissa's face, sending her sprawling. Nathaniel cried out, too late. His insides twisted as she hit the ground, bouncing and rolling until she skidded to a stop almost at his feet.

Blood covered her mouth and nose, and she desperately pulled off one metal gauntlet to bring a hand up, holding her ruined face together. She stood up, the movement agonising to watch, and brandished her sword.

The broodmother screamed.

The commander hurled her sword forward, piercing the monster's head.

Both collapsed.

Nathaniel was at her side, trying to get a look at what damage had been done. There was too much blood, and her hand still weakly protected her mouth. He couldn't see, couldn't tell what to do.

"Anders!" he yelled. "Anders, get over here!"

The mage came skidding to his knees by her side, healing magic already working between his hands. He placed a hand on either side of the commander's face, trying to get through the blood and the mess.

"O'ren," Elissa mumbled.

"The lips are torn through, she's lost two teeth. Cheekbone is intact." Anders said. "And there's some kind of poison, I don't know, it's not something I've seen before."

"O'ren," Elissa repeated. "Shore."

The dwarf was for once devoid of laughter. "Five."

"Fie!"

"I'll knock it up to seven if you do me a favour and pull through this."

"Wan nie."

"Fine, you get a nine if you pull through and manage to get those teeth put back in."

"Dea."

Nathaniel stroked her hair, trying to get her to pull out of shock a bit. She leaned over and spat something into Anders' hand. He opened his palm to reveal two teeth.

"Charming," the mage said.

Nathaniel almost laughed at the supremely satisfied look in Elissa's eyes, but instead he looked at Anders, who was paler than ever. Not the look of a man who was confident in what he was doing.

"You can stop the bleeding, can't you?" Nathaniel asked.

"I'm trying," Anders hissed. "If I don't reattach her lips there's no point."

Nathaniel felt a weight in his hand and glanced down. Elissa squeezed his fingers. This time he let himself chuckle. He was supposed to be comforting her, not the other way around. She'd pull through, she had to. There was no one to take over her place if she didn't. There was no fear in her eyes.

"Okay, I've got it." Anders sighed. "Reattaching now. I think there'll be some scarring, but it's better than losing half your face."

They waited with bated breath, watching the flesh under layers of red moving and shifting, reworking itself. The commander's eyes fluttered closed and her hand went limp in Nathaniel's. For a moment he felt a cold chill of panic, but Anders just shook his head and kept working. Blood loss, not death. He removed his hands, revealing an intact face. He lifted the upper lip and slowly reinserted both fallen teeth, a single charge of healing magic fitting both back into place.

Elissa opened her eyes groggily, looking up at the three anxious faces above her. She smiled, and Nathaniel's heart broke just a little for her. Her smile was crooked, twisted. A mockery of the smile that could make his heart skip a beat. He didn't meet her eyes, not wanting her to see the disappointment on his face.

Together the three men picked her up and began the slow walk back to Vigil's Keep.