Sorry this is late; the site wouldn't let me post! *shakes fists*
11. Nathaniel
I don't wake up until the sunlight streaming in through the window-which I forgot to shutter last night-hits me full in the face. But the moment the slightest bit of consciousness stirs, my hand throbs enough to drag me the rest of the way awake. I sit up and instinctively run my fingers through my hair, which results in far more colorful language than is usually heard from me, especially this early in the day. Upon even a casual examination, I can see the two fingers are swollen to just about twice their normal size and hurt too much to even think about bending them. Time to make Anders start pulling his weight around here, I decide, heading off down the hallway in search of said healer. I find myself treading carefully, as the wooden floors are rough in spots, and I'd rather not get a splinter in my foot.
"Good morning, Commander," Varel greets me as I enter the throne room.
"Morning, seneschal," I nod in return. "Have you seen Anders?"
He shakes his head. "Not since the Joining last night, no."
"Sod." I wince as another twinge shoots through my hand. "I'll keep looking, then." An idea strikes as I take my leave. I remember how hard that 'increased appetite' side effect hit me after my Joining; I wonder if it's the same for everyone. I know the nightmares aren't, but this is different. To the kitchen, then. Even if I'm wrong, I am hungry...
oOo
My guess turns out to be a good one: I can hear Anders trying to wheedle something out of the cook even before I reach the kitchen.
"...just a little something?"
"Not on your life, ser mage!" the woman retorts indignantly, and I hear the clatter of a wooden spoon landing on a table or counter. "Nothin' extra, not for anyone. That's the rules."
"Not even an absolutely famished Grey Warden who hasn't eaten for hours?"
"No one in the entire keep's eaten for hours."
The exchange leaves me fighting a giggle as I finally reach the small kitchen. "I suppose I did forget to warn you about the side effects of being a Warden, didn't I?"
"What?" He wheels to face me.
"One of the more obvious ones being an appetite just about double what's normal. I eat more than your average human male," I smirk. "That and the nightmares have been the two more bothersome ones for me, though I've gotten better about blocking out the nightmares."
"So those will go away?" He sounds hopeful, which makes me take a closer look at him as I lean back against the wall. He doesn't look like he slept well.
"For some people they do. Mine aren't nearly as bad now as they were a year ago. But other people, no, they never get better," I answer apologetically.
Anders winces and rubs his forehead. "So I'll be dealing with double the appetite and half the sleep, while fighting scary monsters for a living?" He offers a lopsided grin. "Sounds fun. So glad I signed up."
"Sorry." I turn to the cook. "There has to be extra food lying around, if only because of the severe blow the Warden garrison took last night?" I raise an eyebrow at the woman. "And if you've been feeding Wardens for a while now, you know we need for food than normal soldiers."
She sighs. "I was just tryin' t' make the supplies last longer."
"Admirably economic thinking, but I'd appreciate it if you found something for my friend here to eat."
"Yes, Commander," she sighs, turning to rummage in the cupboards.
"Thanks, Commander." Anders rubs his stomach with one hand.
"Don't mention it. I know how bad it seems the first time you feel like you're on the verge of starvation." I gesture to wave away his thanks with my bad hand-as the good one is trapped between my back and the wall-and his eyes narrow.
"Maker's breath...let me see that," he demands. "When were you planning-"
"Why d'you think I was looking for you?" I interrupt.
"Right, sorry." He gingerly unwraps the sorry-looking bandages still cocooning my fingers, muttering apologies under his breath when I flinch. His grip is gentle as he holds my wrist still to get a closer look at my damaged hand. "Oh, Andraste's frilly knickers," he mutters when he see how my knuckles are twisted practically sideways, the fingers themselves zig-zagging in more than one place. "How long's it been like this?"
We both ignore the cook as she plunks something on the table and retreats into the pantry muttering under her breath.
I shrug-no easy feat with one wrist still trapped in his hand. "Since just after I got here, I think. A genlock got in a lucky shot when I was distracted."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Too focused on saving as many people as I could, I guess. I have too many lives on my conscience as it is."
"No, I mean, how did you keep your mouth shut about the pain?"
"I'm used to it," I reply, the words carrying more than one meaning. "And I had a numbing salve that I smeared all over them."
"I'll see what I can do, but this-" he gently brushes a finger over my knuckles, "-is a mess, Commander."
"Rahna," I correct. "Call me Rahna."
"As you wish, Rahna." He summons a healing spell, focusing in on the broken bones. "There. They may be a bit stiff from now on, but they're as healed as I can get them." He lets go of my wrist and I flex the offending digits.
Sure enough, they're gnarled looking now, slow to respond, and don't bend as far as before, but they don't hurt, and I can move them. I'll take what I can get. One more battle scar to add to the collection, I muse, my gaze on the pale brown ridge snaking down my forearm. It hasn't faded any since that day in the mountains near Warden's Keep when Jowan almost-lectured me for being stubborn about that gash as it healed. Wonder if he and Miri made it to the Free Marches yet... I shake my head and head out of the kitchen, leaving Anders to his 'snack' with a final nod of thanks. I have my own busines to worry about without wondering what he's up to. Still, I can't deny I miss him as I return to my room to get my armor before making rounds of the rest of this place.
oOo
The private standing outside the keep recognizes me and salutes as Dog and I pass. "Commander."
"Private," I nod in return. "Anything I should know about?"
She nods. "A while back they caught a thief in the Vigil. Took four Wardens to capture him."
I raise an eyebrow. Four against one? And Wardens? "Where is he now?"
"H-He's in the dungeon, ser," she replies, pointing out the building that houses the cells. "I also have some letters. Arrived right before you did. You want them now, or later?"
"I'll take them now, I suppose." I accept the wrinkled envelopes from her and tuck them inside my armor. I'll read them after I visit this prisoner. "C'mon, boy," I coax the mabari, who's sniffing intently in the direction of the far courtyard. He gives a short bark and follows me toward the dungeon.
oOo
It smells down here, the result of years of housing prisoners for man like Rendon Howe. I absently wonder if this place witnessed that man commit as many atrocities as his Denerim estate did, or if he only went so thoroughly off the deep end once he moved to the city. Hayden's story makes me doubt that, but since walls can't talk, I'll never know for sure.
"Commander," the cell guard greets me as I enter. "It's good that you're here." He motions almost contempteously toward the cell and the man inside it. "This one's been locked up three nights now. Good men died while he was protected in his cell."
"Do you know who he is?" I ask, noting that Dog, while guarded, is showing no urge to do anything especially damaging to the thief. That's telling; there's no better judge of character than a mabari.
The guard shakes his head. "No, Commander. He wouldn't give his name. I'd say he was just a thief, if it hadn't taken four Grey Wardens to capture him."
The faintest trace of a smirk tugs on the prisoner's lips at that.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Commander. He's no ordinary burglar, that's for certain," the guard cautions.
"Thank you for the warning, soldier. Leave me to talk with him."
"Of course, Commander. I'll go tell the seneschal you came. He'll want to know what you decide to do."
"Very well." I nod as he leaves and turn my attention to the man in the cell. He's been divested of any armor or weapons he had, of course, but that glare. I rest my hand on the hilt of the dagger stashed in my belt, just to be safe, as I step closer to the bars.
The dark haired man stands as I approach, the glare shifting to a baleful look of disdain. "If it isn't the great hero, Conqueror of the Blight and Vanquisher of all evil." He sweeps me with a studying look. "I've lost track of how many times the guards threatened me with your arrival. From their stories, I expected you to be ten feet tall, with lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes," he scoffs.
He may be 'just' a thief, but this attitude of his is doing the man no favors. Even if I do appreciate his refreshingly blunt honesty.
"It's an easy mistake to make, I suppose," I shoot back, crossing my arms.
"I just expected my father's murderer to be... more impressive." He must have seen the confusion that momentarily tugs my eyebrows together, because he clarifies, "I am Nathaniel Howe. My family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father?"
"Hard to forget a man who tortures innocent people, imprisons templars, and throws in his lot with a traitor," I shoot back, my mind reeling. I thought Hayden said...no, he said Thomas died, and the older son seemed to have disappeared. Makes sense, a rogue would be good at vanishing... So, now what do I do? I have a Howe in the dungeon, a Cousland in the guest room, and absolutely no desire to let them catch sight of each other.
"My father served the Hero of River Dane and fought against the Orlesians. But my family lost everything."
And that's deserved, considering what your father did. "Just how much did you know about your father?"
"You mean, did I know what he was up to?" He shakes his head. "No. I was squired in the Free Marches. Look, I know you're a hero. You fought a war and you won, and to the victor go the spoils. But what my father did shouldn't harm my whole family. The Howes are pariahs now." For a moment, the hard anger fades from his eyes as he corrects himself. "Those of us left."
He has a point, Rahna. Are you really going to punish him for what his father did? The Free Marches are a couple hundred miles away; he couldn't have been involved. I am curious about one thing. "Why did you come here?"
"Initially?" His eyes harden again. "I was planning to kill you." He sighs. "But then I realized I just wanted some of my family's things."
"Mm." That little revelation makes my decision a tad more difficult. He was going to kill me. Or, well, try. Granted, he changed his mind, but what if I let him go, and he changes it back? "What would you do if I let you go?"
He blinks, apparently surprised that the thought even crossed my mind. "If...if you let me go? I don't know. I only got back to Ferelden a month ago. If you let me go, I'll probably come back here." He shrugs. "You might not catch me next time."
"Y'know, you're not really making the best case for yourself," I point out, noting that Dog still has yet to do more then eye the man-Nathaniel-suspiciously. He's apparently a better person than this conversation would lead one to believe...
Another shrug. "I could lie, if you prefer," he shoots back.
I have to give him that. "True. I think I've decided what to do with you."
"Good."
oOo
By the time the cell guard returns with Varel, I've very firmly made up my mind. I'm not executing Nathaniel for his father's crimes-I already made Howe pay that debt himself-or a discarded plan of his own. He is not his father; the uncompromising honesty even when it worked against him is proof enough of that. And briefly as the idea of recruiting him to the Wardens-he's certainly skilled enough-crossed my mind, he can't stay here. Hayden will kill him on sight. And since I have no idea how long Anora intends to stay, that leaves only one option: "Release him. I want him gone." More for his sake than mine.
"I'll probably just come back, you know," he points out.
Maker's breath, does he want me to kill him? "Not the wisest idea," I return.
Varel turns to the guard. "Put him on the road, and make sure he keeps walking." He looks back at me as the guard escorts Nathaniel out of the keep. "I hope you know what you're doing, Commander."
I hope I do, too. My gut and my dog have never steered me wrong, and both say this is the right decision. I hope to the Maker they're right.
A/N: So Dog still doesn't have a new name...and I ended up block-quoting(sorta) from the game again. I hate it when I do that. I also find it sickeningly ironic that my absolute favorite Dragon Age character is one of the the hardest for me to write. Nathaniel Howe, I'm looking at you. The bit with Rahna and Anders in the kitchen ended up longer than I intended it to be, which is why this chapter is longer than usual. I couldn't find a satisfactory place to cut it off mid-conversation with Rahna and Nathaniel.
