Funny how it works, but you have writers block for months, then when assignments are due, here write this fun stuff instead. Awesome.
How can he be proud of me?
It was past midnight, but Dain couldn't sleep. Not that he had tried, instead spending the last few hours wearing a path down the length of his room. The events of the day, from those words he had barked so harshly at Zevran, the words that had given form to the damage he had done to the promise to his father, the Alienage and the proof of such evil and then his heart bursting from his lips in a few sentences. A wriggling worm of regret seemed to squirm every time he replayed those words in his head, but it was another thing to find the words to fix those actions. There was nothing he could do about Anora, but there had to be something he could do for the others… Gesturing for Grimm to stay; the mabari not putting up even the pretension of a fight from his sprawled position on the bed, Dain left the room. The hallway was lit by the wavering light of flame sconces, he didn't know if she would be awake, but she had been there surely she would know something, could offer him something. His knock was muffled, but he could hear her footsteps. The door opened only a crack, her face showing concern as she recognised him.
"Dain, are you alright?"
When he managed to shake his head she opened the door. It seemed even Wynne hadn't been sleeping either, a lamp turned deep into the oil was on a small side table next to a soft chair, a steaming pot of what smelt like tea next to it. Wynne had her hair down and was wrapped in a robe, ties crossed hard across her waist.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't…"
She smiled,
"Nonsense, come in. Come."
He did, gingerly. Wynne closed the door and returned to her chair, but kept her eyes on Dain. Here he didn't pace instead stood awkwardly.
"Have a seat."
She offered. Dain started as she spoke before bending to pull the small ottoman from under the end of the bed. His knees bent high as he sat on it, looking more like the boy he felt inside. He completed the image by clasping his hands before him, searching in his entwined fingers for something to say.
"Would you like some tea?"
She didn't wait for an answer, instead pouring one and offering it to him. He took it mechanically, blowing on the liquid before sipping at it.
"What would you like to talk about?"
"I think I need to talk about Vaughan."
Wynne nodded her head, seeing both Vaughan and the young injured elf in her mind. Dain sighed several times, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to figure out where to start. When Dain couldn't offer anything Wynne offered some thoughts.
"Zevran was very quiet today. He made no comments about my bosom nor rose to Oghren's remarks. He didn't say anything, but the servants were speaking about a conversation in the halls that was frightening. Our time in the dungeons were riddled with blood, defined by Howe's, but more than he died there. What Vaughan did was bad, yes the worst. A decision had to be made; perhaps you may have been counselled to accept Vaughan's word to stand by the Wardens in the Landsmeet. But like you said you knew of what Vaughan was capable, evidence of that staring us in our face from that tiny little cell, could you have trusted his promise, could you have lived with the blood that would stain his hands after his release. That he would have spared that elf, any of the elves, after what happened?"
It wasn't any different to what he had told himself, but he had been unable to convince himself was the truth.
"I know this Wynne. I couldn't let him free after what he had done, I didn't want too. But..."
"That is not the issue? Then is it?"
His biting reply was telling.
"I failed my father in killing Vaughan."
Wynne's gaze softened. Dain didn't look up from the surface of the tea, not drinking it, just looking into the dark liquid as if he could see something there. Then she noticed the pendant that had fallen free from his shirt, the necklace that the spirit of his father in the Gauntlet had offered. Tears gathered in her eyes and for a few minutes she didn't see the Commander in the man before her, but she found the boy who had been ripped from a family in the worst possible way.
"You cannot hold onto this Dain."
He was silent for a long time, holding the cup in his palms, just looking at the steam rising from the surface. Words that he couldn't previously think to say suddenly found purchase on his tongue.
"I left them for a long time when I was sent to the Marches. I had only returned to them for a couple of weeks and then…"
Wynne didn't follow his words, and found herself leaning forward to hear them better. She could see the tension in his tendons as he gripped the cup. Tea wasn't right for this conversation. She stood and moved to the side board. Filling two glasses with dark wine, she offered one to Dain. Then prised his hands free from the tea cup and replacing them around the goblet. She sipped at her own and then asked in a soft voice,
"Why did they send you away?"
"I was angry. All the time."
Dain slung back the wine, stood and refilled it and sat again on the small padded stool.
"I hurt someone when we were training. I seriously hurt another at a tourney, a Bann's son, one sworn to my father. I was a disappointment to him, and he sent me away."
Wynne felt the tears loom in her eyes once more, enough so she had to lift a hand to wipe them away.
"I was away from home for years. I tried to so hard to fix what was wrong. But now, now I think that the anger that we tried to fix has served me well as a Warden. Without it I don't know if I would have found Howe, or survived the Deep Roads. Ha, let alone the Joining."
"Oh Dain. I don't think your father could be anything but proud of you. No one but another Grey Warden could understand what you have had to do and decisions you have had to make, all the while dealing with the threat of the blight and civil war. He would have understood about Vaughan, about Howe and Loghain. I know this because I know you."
Wynne was vehement, but she could tell by the fact Dain couldn't lift his head to look at her that he didn't believe her. The tears were gone in a surge of anger.
"Listen to me Dain, ignore everything but me. I believe that you have done everything that you could have. You have done right when it would have been easier to do the wrong thing. You saved Connor; you saved the Tower and the Mages. You did. And you helped those who could do nothing for themselves."
Could he find forgiveness that easily? From the mouth of an old mage who saw his deeds over the last year? He finally lifted his head, a wry smile on his face.
"You have seen us this far Dain. You. Now finish that, have a bath. I had heard of what and where you were today. Dain we are finally here because of you."
Then he did something else to surprise her. He stood, again knocking back the heavy wine. Swapping the empty cup for the still nearly full jug. He bent and kissed her cheek, his breath heavy with the fruit of the wine.
"Thanks Wynne. I'm glad you decided that joining us was worthwhile."
She couldn't help but blush, taking a deeper sip of the wine as the door closed behind him.
He stood before Zevran's door. Two things keeping him there. The fact that his apology was still unplanned in his head, and also for the fact that Zevran may not be alone. Gathering whatever he had left after the meeting with Anora and that spur of the moment conversation with Wynne, he knocked. He more than half expected to hear the giggles from a veritable harem that Zevran could have harvested from the servants around the cattle, but he heard no footsteps. Dain found himself undaunted and knocked again, he heard the sigh creep under the door at his persistent knocks. But he did not want to leave it, this time it was important for someone outside of himself.
"Zev. I need to speak with you."
The reply was ghostly, but there nonetheless.
"It is late."
"I bring wine. From Wynne."
The door opened slightly, the shadow of Zevran's profile hovering behind it.
"The woman does seem to have a nose for the stuff. I guess I should not let this opportunity go amiss."
Utter reticence coated Zevran's posture and gestures but he still ushered Dain in, fetching glasses from a side board. Dain focussed on pouring the wine, offering Zevran one. Again stuck for words.
"Dain, I…"
"No I think I need to go first Zevran. Please."
Zevran shrugged, but the elf couldn't deny the interest this midnight visit had generated, for several possibilities, though some were more than a little farfetched. But he kept an open mind.
"I did not thank you for coming with me to the Howe's. I did not thank you for letting me get my own back on him. I did not for you leading the others from me; I could imagine how hard it must have been. I have thought on the opposite, and think that I would have pursued you even if to save you from yourself. I did not when you and Leiliana entered Drakon to rescue me from that place. Instead I berated you for something that I knew was worthwhile, that any promise Vaughan could have made would be repaid many fold in the blood of innocents."
Dain lifted his glass to the elf,
"Thank you Zev. For everything."
"Oh well. The pleasure was all mine, my friend."
"No, do be honest. I do not think that it was. I…know that I have been a terrible companion, to all of you. The heaviness of this business, I don't think I could ever have imagined its real weight. I think without the comrades I have been surrounded with, that I would not have survived. The fact we stand where we stand, is a testament to everyone."
"Oh Dain, you are the brace on which it all stands. But I understand and accept the sentiment. After all it comes with an apology of a very nice Orlesian red."
Dain laughed, and he couldn't remember the last time he had done so.
"Good. Then tomorrow morning you can accompany Oghren, Leiliana and I to visit an old friend of hers. Then later to the Alienage."
"I am at your disposal."
Dain nodded, half closing his eyes. Making no real move to leave the warm fire lit room. Zevran looked over the top of the glass at him. Wondering how the man in front of him could command such power, but be so relaxed in the company of one whom at one time had tried to kill him. But the elf knew that it would require far too much energy to decipher so he simply took another sip of the wine.
"Thank you my friend."
The whispered words had Dain's lips lifting in a grin.
"I do ask one thing?"
An eyebrow rose in acquiesce.
"Who is Rory?"
Zevran couldn't deny that there was a ping of jealousy in his chest when he remembered the tears an unconscious Dain had cried for this unknown.
"Roland was my childhood friend, my best friend. He was to be a Warden recruit. He held the door so Mother and I could find father. I thought I knew the instant he died, when that door crumbled beneath Howe's forces."
There was no brace of anger as Dain said the traitor's name, but instead an uneasy peace.
"But I was wrong. He was in Drakon. I found his body. Then they placed it with me in my cell. He had the heart to be a Warden; he would have been a great one. His father held a small holding; always they had been in service to the Cousland's, the loyal Gilmore's. Now that line is gone, perhaps fitting that mine has gone too. But I wish that I had been able to save him. But it is a failure that joins with the others."
Zevran wasn't sure he had been ready for that. It was so outside his realm of understanding, even for all that he had seen as an assassin, for all that he had understood, that had changed when he had met the man before him.
"Oh."
Dain snorted,
"Yeah. But I gave Rory's shade what I could, I can see that now. The death of Howe. And even if he hadn't a hand in it, Loghain will be something else I give to his memory, and that of my parents, my nephew, my brother and his wife. As well as all the others connected to Highever and my family."
Dain opened his eyes, swallowing what was left of the wine.
"I'll see you tomorrow Zev."
"No doubt."
Dain grinned and left the warm room, leaving the elf to muse into the surface of the dark wine.
