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Dragon Age: The Quickening
Chapter 4: Return
"Here we are. Home sweet home."
"Is it, Sala?"
"It was yours. And while I resent what you did, you at least deserve a chance to indulge my sister's delusions."
Taal nodded. Spurring his horse on, he descended down the hill to Candelis.
"I've said my goodbyes, nephew. This will be the last time you see me."
Taal remained silent. He had nothing left to say. Not to his uncle at least.
It had been ten years since he'd last been here. Ten years since he'd realized who and what he really was. Someone whose true place was outside the village. Someone who could make a life as a trader. Someone who was so skilled with a bow that he'd accepted an offer for recruitment into a regiment's archer detachment. Someone who now, at the age of twenty-eight, spoke Tevinter languages fluently, was battle hardened and until Sala had found him, hadn't given elves much of a second thought.
And then his uncle had come. Clad in armour. Had come telling him what he already knew, that the elves were retreating into isolation, their contact with humans somehow affecting their immortality. For his part, his uncle had looked exactly the same. For his part, he'd treated him the same. But his words had never been spoken before to him.
"You're mother's dying."
Taal glanced back at the hill, Sala and his horse already out of sight. He grudgingly acknowledged that he owed him for his actions. Or at least the thought behind them. Because right now, as he approached his old house, now looking as dusty and deserted as every other dwelling in the village, he wasn't sure why he was still here. Why he hadn't ridden off and been among people who didn't look down on him.
Still, as he dismounted his horse and knocked softly on the door, he supposed it was a moot point.
"Mother?" Taal asked. "It's me. It's…it's your son."
There was no answer. Part of the man's mind wanted to take that as an excuse to leave. But the house wasn't silent. He couldn't see anything in the dark, but he could hear what sounded like a fire on the other side of the door. And after opening the door, he couldn't only hear the fire, but see it as well. And he could also see a figured sitting by it, staring into the flame.
"Kumari?" Taal asked.
The figure coughed.
"Mother?"
The figure coughed again, but at least made a movement beyond that. Shrugging, Taal moved into the room, to see her face.
"Mother, I…"
And he fell silent.
She was alive. But that was all that could be said in regards to positive comments on her health. Grey hair, a wrinkled face, her clothes draped around a skinny frame…it had been ten years, and it looked like she'd aged nearly ten times that number.
"Mother, I…"
"The quickening…" Kumari rasped. "Gets to everyone. Especially when you've lived for a few centuries already."
Taal just stared. Kumari stared back. And all thoughts of what he was going to say, of the speech titled "this is your fault," slipped away. For the first time since he'd heard the news, Taal reflected that he'd left her. Had left her and never looked back until now.
"So…" Kumari said. "Here we are…"
Taal nodded. He stood there for a moment before talking off his cloak-a crimson red one, the colour of the Imperium. He draped it around her, taking her hand as he did so.
"You're cold…" he murmured.
"I've been cold for ten years…" Kumari said. She looked up and smiled. "But thanks for the cloak."
Taal remained silent. He was glad he'd left his armour behind. He didn't want the differences between them to grow even further.
"So…" Kumari said. "I suppose Sala has told you what's happening." She coughed for a few moments before continuing. "I suppose news of my people's isolation has spread."
Taal nodded. "It has."
"And what are your people doing about it?"
Taal shrugged, trying to ignore the term "your people." "Don't know. I'm just a soldier."
"And you like that?"
Taal shrugged. "Keeps me fed. I'm good with a bow. You taught me…well, mum. I…"
He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't remember the last time he cried. He was a captain after all, and couldn't afford to show emotion. But looking at his mother like this, like some…beggar…like some woman at the end of a life of mere decades…he knelt down.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "I'm so sorry…"
Kumari sighed…though it sounded like a wheeze. "Don't be…" she said. "It was inevitable."
"Inevitable? I-…"
His mother held up a hand.
"Taal, I should apologise. But before I do, I want you to know something. I want you to know the truth."
Taal stared at her as she started coughing. He wanted to make it stop. Wanted it more than anything.
"Taal, I knew from the moment you were born that you weren't unique. I knew over eighteen years that someday you'd have to leave. I knew that I'd have to tell you the truth. I knew that I was being selfish, that I was keeping you in a miserable life, and I was doing it for my own selfish reasons."
"Selfish?" Taal asked. "How were you selfish? Just by keeping me, you were shortening your life."
"Selfish…" Kumrai reflected. "Because I was letting you be a guinea pig. Some…marker to observe the quickening. Or at least, that's what I told the healers. I told them that I'd make a mistake with your father, that I was willing to fix it by seeing how you affected me."
Taal remained silent.
"But I lied to them as well, Taal. I lied to them about everything. Because what they never knew, or understood, was that I loved your father. I loved him more than anything else at the time. I loved him so much that losing him was a pain unlike anything I've ever felt, or will ever feel again."
Taal tried to smile. He failed. The thought of his mother not feeling anything else…she couldn't…
"But I kept on," she continued. "I kept going on, because as much as I loved your father, I loved…love you…even more. I looked at you, and saw Strenec. I looked at you, and I saw my son, no matter what anyone else said. I looked at you for eighteen years, watching you grow more in that time than my people do in decades. And looking at you now, all grown up…" She trailed off, looking like she was about to cough, but instead stifling a sob. "I'm proud, Taal. So very proud. And if my death is the price of your life…even if it's a life of a few decades…well, it's worth it. It was worth every day of those eighteen years."
Taal remained silent. So did Kumari. In fact, the only sounds were that of a crackling fire and a soft breeze outside.
But as he stayed with her, being with her as she had for him, maybe there was nothing left to say.
The End
A/N
Well, that's that done. If anyone cares. Meh.
For what it's worth, don't have any other Dragon Age stories on my 'to write' list right now. Currently working on a StarFront story titled Transit of Venus for what it's worth.
