Disclaimer: Bioware owns all, except what I most humbly imagine. While, at times, I will take verbatim from the game, I attempt to use the events of the Dragon Age games, expansions and universe as a loose structure around which to construct my re-imagined tale. If you are looking for a strict canon piece, I have no desire to offend, and so I warn you upfront that I will divert from the traditional tale.

When reading these stories, I hope you can easily imagine it being told by the very best of storytellers in Varric Tethras (from DA:2). In my version of events, Varric meets "The Hero" (Elissa Cousland) in Kirkwall during the time period of DA:2. I mention this only so that readers can understand his connection along the way, and so I don't have to mention and rehash it again and again as I make my way through the tale.

A/N: Another one from the "alphabet challenge." This one is Nathaniel's "A".

Thanks to my readers, reviewers and followers and to my beta artemiskat.

Happy reading!

-Frayed One


3. Straight and True

Rendon wanted him to be a swordsman. "Real men use a blade, son. You should look your enemy in the eye as you kill them. Bows are for women and cowards."

That was the first time he'd have his grandfather's bow taken away and deposited in an area of the keep where his father assumed he'd never find it. He was passable with a blade, better with daggers than any other weapon forged from steel, but his father thought those the weapons of cowards as well and steered him back toward the longsword with a critical sneer.

In his free and private time he tracked down the family bow, tucked inside a hidden cache, disguised behind a statue in the family library. Once he'd found it he practiced. Practiced until there were blisters on his fingers. Practiced until the muscles in his arms ached from the strain. Practiced until he was certain his father could not doubt the value of his skill.

Archery came naturally to Nathaniel. He understood it. It was a thoughtful skill tailor made for a thoughtful young man. He could hit the smallest mark without even seeing it. Sense memory seemed to tell him where it was and guide his arrow to the mark. But even then, his father seemed unimpressed.

He entered an archery competition at Fergus' suggestion. "When you win, he won't be able to stay mad at you. And just think of all the girls!"

What the girls thought always seemed to motivate Fergus, far more than it should as far as Nathaniel was concerned. But the idea that winning such an event could earn his father's favor was an intriguing idea, so he entered.

When he won, his father was happy enough to bask in the familial glory, certain to take all of the credit for having the foresight to train such a talented bowman. Nathaniel let it slide, happy to accept the praise he was getting and to be allowed to practice openly instead of worrying when his father would discover his secret.

The more he trained the better he got. He was talented, and even he knew it. The bowmen of his father's guard couldn't best him and they were hardened men forged on the field of battle. He was so talented that word of his skill spread and eventually the Teyrn requested that he use his abilities and his patience to train his daughter to wield a bow.

It would take his entire reserve of both to meet that challenge. Elissa was wild and unruly and had no desire to use a bow. Like his father, she preferred a blade. Their training sessions were tedious and frustrating and looked forward to by neither of them. He tried to be nice to her, but she made it difficult, prodding his temper at every opportunity.

She had potential, but no patience for it, and was easily distracted by the things she'd rather be doing. She pulled back at the bow too hard, on one such occasion snapping the bowstring and sending it cracking back across her face. Nathaniel made the mistake of reaching for her in concern.

"Don't touch me!" She snapped at him and ran off toward the castle, bow and arrows abandoned and forgotten, leaving Nathaniel to wonder what he'd done to make her despise him with such passion.

That was the second time he'd lost his grandfather's bow. His father confiscated it upon hearing of Elissa's injury during their training session, though the Teyrn insisted no harm had been done. It was a punishment he would not soon forget. He never looked for the bow again. Some things were best forgotten.

The Teyrn gifted him with a new bow upon hearing that his old one had been… lost. It was nothing like his old bow, but it would do.

At night, when everyone else was sleeping or – in Fergus and Elissa's case off getting into mischief of some sort – Nathaniel would fletch arrows. It was a skill that required a very particular mindset and an incredibly delicate hand. He was lucky enough to have both. It was soothing, this ritual of replenishment and renewal. It kept his soul at ease when little else could be counted on to do so.

Nathaniel would let the arrows guide him; sure and true and steady. They would never steer him wrong.

When the arrows led him back to Elissa Cousland, he assumed it was the hand of fate guiding them there. They'd barely spoken since the incident; months turning into a year and then rolling over, then suddenly there she was, an archer herself despite both their best efforts. It opened his eyes to things he hadn't thought possible before, and he set his course anew.

It wasn't until the Free Marches that he learned the blade skills his father had so desired to find in him. That he used those skills to wield what the man had called a coward's blade was an irony not lost on Nathaniel, though he would not realize just how ironic until the truth of his "assignments" was revealed years later in the wake of the man's failed treachery.

The arrows were silent, their wisdom lost. He returned to Ferelden a broken man. Not who he was and not who he wanted to be. He gave up hope when his father's last words turned out to be a quest for vengeance, but he accepted the task nonetheless. He would do it, this one last thing, and be done with it. It was his blades that led him here, not the arrows.

When the Wardens caught him before he could complete his task he prayed it would be over soon, but they locked him in his father's basement cell and left him to rot until the woman he'd come to kill could decide his fate. That woman turned out to be Elissa and everything he'd known, his entire world, turned upside down.

She found his grandfather's bow and returned it to him. It was an act of kindness he did not expect, even more surprising than her decision to release him in lieu of execution. She didn't trust him, didn't love him, but she believed in his skill. When she spoke of him as an archer, he remembered how much he'd loved it, and how it had always soothed his mind.

He'd come back here for a reason.

He would let the arrows lead again.