This was the last place he thought he'd die.
And there was no doubt in Nathaniel Howe's mind that we was going to die here, locked in the dungeon of what should have been his own home. The home that his family had lived in for generations, until the sodding Hero of Ferelden, the Grey Warden, this Kya Amell or whatever her name was, showed up, murdered his father and tore everything apart.
He sighed and ran a hand through his tangled hair. He was so sodding angry – despite the rumors he'd heard since returning from the Free Marches – he just couldn't accept that he father got what he deserved. Everyone told him that Rendon Howe had earned his death; assassins, slave trading, trying to murder the Queen, but it just seemed . . . bah, if he thought about it honestly, it seemed entirely possible.
That was the worst part of it.
Nathaniel had come to the Vigil in the dead of night like a madman, obsessed with the idea of ending the Commander of the Grey. If didn't matter that the rumors said the Commander was a mage, that she was a woman, that she was very young and that she was beautiful. But he knew how rumors worked. More likely she was a half grown hedge witch with a wart and a fancy set of robes who'd gotten lucky. They said she'd conscripted Loghain Mac Tir and together they'd ended the Blight. Loghain had more likely done it, but his own part in the civil war overshadowed his true victory.
That had to be the truth. That was more likely after all.
Nathaniel looked up at the sound of the door creaking open. The guard posted to watch him snapped to his feet, obscuring his view of the doorway. The guard stammered and stumbled and looked entirely flustered.
"Commander!" the idiot managed to blurt out finally.
He heard a low female chuckle in reply. "At ease man," she said. "Don't pop a vessel. I'm just here to meet this prisoner."
"Yes ser!" the guard snapped. There it was again, that tired laugh.
"Go find Varel, will you?" she said, taking the keys from the guard's shaking hand. "Once you manage to drag him back here, I'm sure I'll have made a decision of what's to be done with him."
The guard nodded vigorously and he brushed passed her so fast that the plates on his mail scraped against hers, spinning her around. She was wearing blood splattered plate mail, dragonbone by the look of it. Nathaniel was confused by that. She was supposed to be a mage. What mage wore armor? She shook her head at the door.
Slowly, she turned to face him, walking forward until she was out of the shadows in the doorway and her face was lit by the lamp on the guard's table.
Sod it, Nathaniel thought. Of all the parts of those rumors to be right . . . well, he wasn't going to let a pretty face change anything. It didn't change anything.
"So," Kya said," slipping the key into the lock and turning it. Nathaniel heard the clink of the tumblers in the lock. She pulled the cell door open with a creak, apparently completely unconcerned that it took four of her kind – and strong men at that – to capture him.
"If it isn't the great hero, conqueror of the Blight and vanquisher of all evil," Nathaniel snapped before she could speak again. "Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall with lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?"
She gave him a crooked grin. "Not unless I've had a few drinks," she replied. Nathaniel supposed that she was used to being humored, and considered charming. He wasn't impressed.
Folding his arms across his chest he glared at her. "Somehow I just thought my father's murderer would be . . . more impressive." He furrowed his brow. "I am Nathaniel Howe; my family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father?"
"Well," she replied. "You're Arl Howe's son. That explains a lot. But let's not mince words, shall we?" She leaned back against the bars of the cell, but the look in her eyes was hardly relaxed. "Your father brought his end on himself."
"My father served the Hero of River Dane!" Nathaniel spat. Before he could continue, Kya snapped to her feet, charging towards him until she was only a pace away from him.
"Don't. You. Dare," she growled, each word a complete sentence. "I know Loghain Mac Tir, and don't you dare propose to know what happened." Her face was pale as death. Nathaniel was not a man easily intimidated, especially not by a woman a half head shorter than he was, and hardly old enough to be called a woman at that. But he took an unconscious step back, his hands falling limp to his sides and his knees banging into the makeshift cot behind him.
"Oh?" he snorted, trying to maintain his composure. "I didn't know they spent much time teaching mages about Ferelden politics."
Kya gritted her teeth. "They didn't," she snapped. "But that doesn't change the fact that you weren't here." Her finger flung out and poked into the middle of his chest. "So if you think you can turn this around and make it my fault . . . I dare you to try."
Nathaniel did his best to look unimpressed, but knew he was failing miserably, as she continued. "Why were you here? What did you think you were going to accomplish."
"I came here," he began, and then frowned hard. "I thought I was going to try to kill you; to lay a trap for you." He sighed, defeated. "But then I realized I just wanted to reclaim some of my family's things. It's all I have left."
"I'm sorry," she replied, stepping back. "I only did what I had to do."
"Look," Nathaniel said, crossing his arms across his chest again, "Whatever my father did shouldn't have to harm my whole family. The Howes are pariahs now, those of us that are left and it's all thanks to you. And now you get to decide my fate." He laughed bitterly. "Ironic isn't it?"
"Irony is apparently my specialty," she replied. "You have no idea."
"I'm sure it's all very amusing," he said, turning his back to her. "A laugh riot."
He heard her growl, but didn't turn around. "If you had no part in what your father did, perhaps you should try to redeem your name."
"Of course," Nathaniel sneered. "I'll head to Denerim and sign up for King Alistair's service; I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have a Howe in his guard."
"You have a point there," she said. He heard the clink of her armor against the cell bars again. "Alistair isn't exactly known for being forgiving." She sighed again and he turned around, finding her rubbing her temples. "What would you do if I just let you go?"
"If you let me go?" he asked incredulously. "I don't know; I only came back to Ferelden a month a ago." He snarled at her. "If you let me go, I'll probably come back here, and you may not catch me next time."
She dropped her hand and looked up at him sullenly. "So be it," she replied.
Before she could speak again, Varel and the flustered guard returned. Kya stood and strode out of the cell, her back turned to him fearlessly. Nathaniel wished for a dagger so he could find some weakness in her armor, someway to have his revenge despite it all. But it was too late for that, no matter what she'd decided. He realized that all he would do is add another murderer to his family tree. He couldn't bear the thought that he might be that sort of man.
Better that she do what had to be done. It was the only sensible decision, considering his angry words. She'd have him executed, just like she'd ended his father. It would be a sad, but apparently fitting ending to line of monsters. That is what everyone thought after all, and who was he to deny the masses their justice.
"So you've met our prisoner," Varel said, chuckling, snapping Nathaniel out of his pondering. "He's quite the handful, isn't he?"
"Did you know this was Nathaniel Howe?" she asked him, rubbing her forehead again.
Varel's eyebrows shot up. "Well, that makes sense," he said. But seemingly unimpressed, he continued. "Have you decided what to do with him?"
Without hesitation, she replied, "I have decided to invoke the Right of Conscription."
"What? No!" Nathaniel said, charging out towards her. "Hang me first."
Kya looked up at him and shook her head. "You act as if I'm giving you a choice."