Warning: this chapter contains scenes of animal death. I abhor animal deaths and writing about one is even harder to stomach than watching it. While it is not overly graphic, any animal lover will no doubt find it hard to read. I did not write this to elicit a negative reaction from the readers, but rather to provide a little insight as to how a man such as Holden could turn into the monster that we have come to know. It is only a small segment, but I understand if you need to skip over this chapter.

As always, reviews and insight are always welcome.

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There comes a time when every life goes off course. In this desperate moment who will you be? Will you let down your defenses and find solace in someone unexpected? Will you reach out? Will you face your greatest fears bravely or move forward with faith? Or will you succumb to the darkness in your soul?


Monsters are not born, they are made. At least that is how the saying goes. While not a universal truth, it was certainly the case for many people. Holden was one such case. He had not always been the brutal torturer who took joy in deplorable sadism. He had once been a happy, boisterous young boy with a genuine love of life and a fondness for animals. That was until his father had beaten it out of him.

His mother had died during childbirth, and his father had never forgiven him for taking his beloved wife away from him. Holden's father began drinking heavily after his wife had died, and treated Holden with ill disguised resentment. Holden had never received a kind word from his father and instead of a loving touch he was gifted with repeated punches. His father would be three ales deep before he decided it was time to toughen up his soft-hearted son. He would repeatedly punch and kick his son while shouting that he needed to toughen up if he ever wanted to become a man. Holden would cry at first, but soon he realized that tears only seemed to fuel his father's rage. He soon learned how to tense his body against his father's blows, and he was able to tolerate the beatings which had become a daily routine.

When he was nine years old, he found a rabbit in the back alley that had seemingly been abandoned by his previous owner. He scooped up the shivering creature and wrapped it up in his cloak and gingerly held the animal in his arms. He brought the frightened animal back to the small hovel he shared with his father, certain that he would throw the creature back into the streets the moment that he saw it. He entered the dirty hovel and found his father crouched in front of the fire place stoking the logs. He closed the door with a quiet snap, prompting his father to look over his shoulder.

He fixed Holden with a harsh stare, immediately fixating on the small creature cradled in his arms.

"What is that?"

Holden felt his breath catch in his chest and opened his mouth to answer only to close it again. His father slowly rose to his feet and strode toward his son, towering over him. "I asked you a question, boy"

"I-it's a rabbit, Papa. I found him in the gutter, and he looked hungry. Can I keep him Papa?" His father stared at him with the same unreadable expression that always filled Holden with no small amount of dread. There was no way of knowing how his father would react to any given situation, nor was he known for his mild temper. Without warning, his father snatched the small creature from his arms and threw the poor animal against the dirty brick wall behind him. The rabbit hit the wall with a sickening crunch before falling to the ground in a limp heap.

Holden's eyes immediately filled with tears as his father's laughs rang in his ears. He clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into the palms of his hands which shook as rage coursed through his body. His father stopped laughing, but the same evil smirk remained on his unshaven face. "Well, well. What's this then? The little man seems upset. What's wrong little man? Are you angry?"

Holden summoned all of his courage to look the man in his eyes. His father's smile widened, revealing several rotted teeth and assaulting Holden's nostrils with the overwhelming stench of ale. "What's the matter Imp? You want to hit me?"

The question threw Holden off guard, and he found himself at a loss. He had no time to offer a response as his father's fist collided with the side of his head, knocking him to the floor. "Come on, get up!" His father shouted.

Holden pushed himself up onto his knees, but a swift kick in the ribs caused him to fall flat on his face. Another kick in the ribs caused him to cry out in pain, eliciting another cruel laugh from his father. "If there is a Maker, he must truly have a sense of humor to curse me with such a useless son."

His father stormed out of the hovel, slamming the door behind him. Holden made sure his father was indeed gone before he dared to move. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, wincing as pain shot through his body. He crawled across the filthy floor to the motionless body of the rabbit that only moments ago had been full of life. He gently picked the body off of the floor and cradled it to his chest. Tears spilled from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and landing in the matted fur of the animal who did not deserve his fate.

As the years passed, the beatings became more frequent and more brutal. They became a daily occurrence, sometimes happening as many as three times a day. But as the time went by, his father became older and Holden became stronger. Soon he was taller and stronger than his father, and he was able to match his father blow for blow. The fights became louder, and more than once resulted in one or both of the men being thrown into a wall. It was still a miserable existence for Holden who longed to be out from his father's clutches, but at least he was no longer the helpless simpering little boy who was little more than a punching bag to his father.

When Holden passed his seventeenth name day, the chance he had been waiting for finally arrived. The Gnawed Noble Tavern was in need of a new bouncer, and due to Holden's large stature he was brought on immediately. The pay was meager, and the hours long, but Holden did not care. Every hour that he spent at the tavern was one that he did not have to spend with his father and his ale consumption. He began saving up his gold and soon he almost had enough to move out from under his father.

As the days passed, he began to fantasize about the day he would be able to walk out of his father's home for the last time. He leaned against the door frame on a particularly slow night, visualizing the small stash of gold he had managed to hide from his father and wondering how much bigger it would have to grow before he was able to afford to live on his own. He gave a huge yawn and gave a half glance towards the entrance as the door swung open. He froze as his eyes settled on the new arrival, his mouth hanging open as he marveled at the young woman who had walked in.

Her raven colored hair which fell just passed her shoulders was weaved into an intricate braid. One strand had come loose, and fell in front of her delicate, youthful face. Her bright blue eyes stood out against the deep olive color of her skin that held a small scattering of freckles across her nose. Her face looked tired yet kind, and her rose colored lips were full and soft.

Holden had never before experienced a moment where he could feel his whole life change until that night. Time seemed to slow down as he watched her gracefully glide across the room and setting into the nearest table. Her eyes flitted in his direction, causing his mouth to snap close and his ears to burn red. A shy smile formed on her lips as her eyes fell to her lap where her hands were clasped.

Holden was not unattractive, in fact compared to most people in his social standing he was quite handsome. Yet he had never had any luck with the opposite sex. Though rather this was because he had never actually tried, or because of his notoriously violent home life he couldn't say with certainty.

"Are you going to go to say hello or stand here gawking like a love-struck fool?" The voice of his fellow bouncer Gil snapped him out of his trance. Holden stiffened his shoulders and tried to regain some of his dignity.

"No idea what you're talking about."

"Come off it," Gil snorted. "I don't even like women yet even I wouldn't mind settling myself down between those legs." Holden felt the blush return to his ears. "And besides, I could practically smell the pheromones when you set eyes on her. So stop standing here like a virginal chantry boy and go get her."

He gave Holden a small shove before he could protest, causing him to stagger forward, catching the attention of the girl. Her eyes met his and she offered him another shy smile that made his heart beat at an alarming rate. He did his best to return the smile but he felt foolish and awkward as he approached her.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to come over here." Her voice was soft and angelic, a perfect match to her appearance.

Holden offered a nervous laugh as he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck as he always did when he was under stress. "Well you see, I had to make sure you weren't dangerous first."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You see it's my job to make sure this place stays safe, you can never be too careful with folks who come in here. Never know who might cause trouble."

A small smile crossed her lips. "I see. And are you quite certain that I am not a villainous scoundrel about to wreak havoc on the place? I mean after all, you can never be too careful in your line of work can you?"

Holden felt his confidence growing and slipped into the seat opposite of her. "Ah, well you see I happen to be an excellent judge of character. I can determine if you are dangerous with a few simple questions."

The girl leaned forward slightly. "Oh? And what questions would those be?"

"Where are you from?"

"Lothering. I came here with my mother and my sister not two weeks ago."

"Ah, Lothering. A quiet town, not much in the way of civil disobedience or debauchery."

"You clearly haven't been to the right part of town." The girl replied with a sly smile.

Holden returned the smile, feeling his previous apprehension begin to fade.

"Next question. What do you do for work?"

"Seamstress."

"Honest work."

"And you believe me just like that?" The girl said. "I could just as easily be an assassin."

"Lothering has an assassin's guild now? I truly must not have been to the right parts of town."

The girl laughed softly, a sound that Holden could see himself listening to forever.

"Last question. When can I see you again?"

"A follow up interrogation then?"

"Well like you said, you can never be too careful right?"

The girl smiled as she rose to her feet. "Hmm. Well I suppose I could stop in again tomorrow after I finish my work. That is, if I manage to complete all of my marks. You know how busy the assassin life can be."

Holden returned the smile. "Well then I wish you luck with your endeavors. I certainly hope I do not end up to be one of your unfortunate victims."

A look came across the girl's face that he could not identify, but it lingered for only a moment before her previously pleasant demeanor returned. "Oh, I wouldn't worry. I am not accepting anymore contracts."

"Wait." Holden said as she girl turned to leave. He instinctively reached out to grab her wrist, feeling a strange jolt at the feel of her soft skin. He was quite certain she was experiencing the same feeling, but he could not be sure if he had simply imagined it.

"What is your name?"

"An interrogation where the interrogator forgets to ask for a name? My, I do feel safe."

"I promise to ask something deeply personal the next time I see you to make up for it."

"I'm going to hold you to that," she said with a smirk. "And my name is Emilia."

He released his grip on her wrist and she turned to leave, appearing to glide out of the tavern. He continued to stare at the door long after she left, certain that his entire life had just changed.

To his surprise, Emilia did return the next night. And the night after, and every night after for the next several months. For the first time in his life he had something to look forward to. He had a reason to fight through his miserable existence and find something to hope for. Holden was falling in love for the first time, and as each day passed, he found it harder and harder to picture his life without her.

By the fourth month, Holden was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was the girl he was meant to spend his life with. He awoke one morning and before he had even left his bed, he had made the decision that he would ask Emilia to marry him. He was certain he had enough gold put away for them to start a decent life somewhere far away from Denerim. Maybe they could start anew in Lothering.

He awoke and hastily dressed, doing his best not to wake his father. He knew that his father would do his best to beat the happiness out of him, but the joy in Holden's heart was so pure and genuine he was sure that there was nothing his father could do to hurt him now.

Still, best to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

He headed to the Tavern, feeling a slight spring in his step. His heart was light, and for the first time in his life he knew what the bards meant when they sang of love and happiness. He entered the Tavern, not surprised to see a few of the patrons from the previous night. Holden approached the owner of the place, and presented his request to have the evening off. The old man gave a big, toothless smile as he heard Holden's words and immediately agreed to his request. He shook Holden's hand firmly, insisting on being the first to congratulate him.

The heat of the sun greeted him as he stepped into the market. The vendors were going about delicately setting up their wares, strategically placing them in a way that would ensure a sale would be made. The glint of the jeweler's wares caught his eye, catching his attention. He strode over to the large wooden stand, immediately attracting the attention of the aging vendor.

"Something I can help you with, dear?" The woman said kindly.

He ran his hand over the back of his neck, suddenly feeling inexperienced and foolish. "I-uh. I'm not sure."

The woman offered an understanding smile. He was certainly not the first young man who had stumbled in looking for the perfect gift for his sweetheart. She pulled out an ancient wooden chest from beneath her stand and set it down on the stall with a small grunt. She opened the lock and pushed the chest towards Holden for him to look through.

A large emerald hanging at the end of a beautiful gold chain immediately caught his eye. He pulled the item out of the chest, holding it delicately in his large hand. A half dozen smaller diamonds surrounded the emerald, giving the piece a truly exquisite appearance. Holden held it up to the sun, nodding his approval as he visualized it hanging from the delicate neck of his lady love.

"I'll take it." He said. He did not ask the price, he did not care to. He would have gladly paid a year's salary for the gift to see how it would fit around Emilia's neck. It was the perfect thing to present to her to show how deep his affection ran.

He walked toward his father's hovel for what he hoped would be the final time. After tonight he would no longer be forced to live under his father's abuse and scrutiny. He would take the gold he had saved up and beg Emilia to run away with him and start a new life wherever she wanted. He did not care where they ended up as long as it was not Denerim.

His heart was light as he wandered through the busy street, his mind swimming with visions of a future with the woman he loved. He imagined finding good paying work to provide for her so she would have the life she deserved. Maybe in a mine, or maybe even a city guard. He imagined coming home to her and a home cooked meal, being greeted by the woman he loved. Maybe they would even have children one day if it was something she wanted. He was sure that he would be a good father. He certainly was sure of the kind of father he did not want to be.

The journey to the hovel seemed to take no time, and for the first time he found that he did not dread entering. He pushed the door open on its hinges, the familiar squeak meeting his ears as he stepped inside. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks and made his blood run cold.

His father was in the corner of the dirty hovel, his breeches down to his ankles. He was grunting loudly and panting heavily as his hips bucked wildly into the delicate frame of Emilia. They were so involved in the act that they did not notice him enter. He stood completely still in the door frame, his heart unable to process what his mind was seeing.

The two of them shifted, and Emilia's eyes met Holden's from over his father's shoulder. She let out a squeal that had nothing at all to do with pleasure. His father seemed far less concerned as he looked over his shoulder, offering his son a nasty sneer as he pulled out of Emilia. He crudely wiped himself with the bottom of his shirt before pulling his breeches up. Emilia stumbled as she hurried to cover herself.

"Well, well. I was wondering when this would all come out. No pun intended." He let out a cruel laugh.

Holden refused to look at him, his eyes were fixated on the woman he loved. She was no longer the same angelic woman who had walked into his tavern so many months before. She no longer held the same delicate beauty that had once taken his breath away. He no longer recognized this woman, and he was unable to feel anything but hatred towards her and his father.

He shifted his eyes to his father, who wiped a stream of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Did you really think that a worthless lout like you would ever be able to get a woman? I paid her to bed you, and you couldn't even manage that! So rather than see my money go to waste, I decided to partake of the spoils. And let me tell you boy, you missed out."

Holden felt something inside him snap. The combination of betrayal, heartache and humiliation proved too much for his soul to bear. Before he had time to realize what he was doing, he reached for the fireplace poker and hit his father in the head with all the strength that he could muster. Emilia screamed as blood spurted from his father's head and splattered across the wall. The man fell to the floor, knocking the various figurines off the mantle as he fell.

A lifetime of built up pain and anger finally broke loose from Holden. He continued his assault on his father, delivering blow after blow, even after he had fallen still. Blood splattered across his face and arms, but he did not care. All he could think of was doing as much damage to his bastard of a father before the guards came and took him away.

He was not sure how may times he hit his father's head, but when he had finished the man was completely unrecognizable. Holden finally relented his assault on the man, breathing heavily as spittle flew from his mouth.

His attention turned to Emilia who stared at him in horror. The blood coating his face and the murderous look in his eyes gave him a truly terrifying appearance. He threw the poker aside, reaching into his pocket for the necklace he had purchased only moments before. Emilia tried to run, but Holden held out his foot causing her to fall flat in her face.

She made an attempt to crawl away, but Holden sat on top of her holding her in place. She struggled beneath him, but she was no match for his size. He gripped the chain in both of his hands and pressed it against her throat until she was gasping for air. His previous assumption proved to be correct-it did in fact look beautiful around her delicate neck.

Her fingers tried in vain to pry his hands from her neck, which only made his grip stronger. Something about the feel of her struggling, and the sound of her gasping for air gave him a very powerful feeling. And he liked it. He liked it very much.

Emilia gurgled for several moments, before the life finally left her body and she slumped forward in a lifeless heap. Holden finally released his grip and rose from the now lifeless body beneath him. He studied her face, and found that death suited her. A strange feeling surged through him as he looked at her still form, and knowing that he had been the one to take her life excited him in a way that no woman ever had before. He was suddenly aware that his breeches had become very tight, and he adjusted himself awkwardly.

He surveyed the area and what he had done and felt a sense of pride. His father had been wrong, he did in fact have a skill. The elation was short lived, as he was sure someone would have alerted the city guard of the racket. He knew he could not stay here any longer, and quite frankly he did not care. He pulled up the loose floorboard by his bed and retrieved the gold he had managed to save up. He took one last look around the hovel before leaving for the final time.

After that day, Holden stopped feeling. He no longer believed in love, or kindness or any form of human decency. Humans were the worst form of life in the world, the lowest and most loathsome creatures that ever existed. They were the only creatures capable of inflicting pain on each other for the simple reason that they could. There was no rhyme or reason to the cruelty and the pain. It was just human nature. And Holden had come to hate all forms of human life.

That was what made Holden so good at the position he now held as the most notorious torturer to ever set foot inside Fort Drakon. His disregard for all human life made his cruelness and sadism highly effective for extracting information from even the most stubborn prisoner. Nothing satisfied him more than the knowledge that he held the power to inflict the maximum amount of pain on the poor bastards that set foot in his domain.

Each night when he returned to his quarters, he felt a sense of satisfaction of knowing that he had done his job effectively when one of his victims were sent back to their cell in much worse shape than they had arrived in. When his day was finished, he would return to the solitude of his private quarters and pour himself an ale. He would go to the small cage he kept in the corner that contained the only creature he allowed himself to care for. He would gingerly lift the aging rabbit out of his cage and sit in the large chair in front of the fireplace. He would gently stroke the soft fur of his only friend, staring into the fire and sipping the ale while losing himself in his own mind.

He knew that this was the only way to live; alone. That was how he had chosen to live, and how he intended to die. And he would make sure he would send as many people as he could ahead of him.