Father...
Nathaniel's gaze was fixed on the dirt road they walked on as they left the city behind them. He didn't really see it though, his eyes distant as he remembered his father.
"Thank the gods, I couldn't have stayed there a moment longer." Velanna's voice was distant, a muttered echo.
He remembered a weathered face, worn with work and plans and an ever present...shame. A shame over what his father's family wasn't, what they didn't have. A man constantly on the move, trying to make life better for his family, to strengthen the family name, for them...even to the point where he never saw them. Nathaniel remembered an ageing man snapping at his son as he spent hours brooding over papers and oaths, searching for a way to give his children what they deserved, never understanding that they only wanted some attention, some love.
"I don't know, I had fun, the tavern was a bit small though." Anders voice...happy, distant.
He remembered a man that had perfected the apology, who meant it when he with a tired smile visited his son at the late hours of the night, nearly falling asleep as he sat down on his son's bed. Always weary beyond words, yet taking the time to ask his son for forgiveness for yet another missed meeting, for yet another missed game, for yet another missed day...
"And full with stinking humans." Velanna muttered. "All staring...ugh."
He had always meant it, he had always been sad...and then done it again, always with the same excuse, always with the need to do something for the family. He denied them happiness with him, himself happiness...but always for them...and it was impossible to stay angry with him, knowing what great efforts he was putting into trying to make them happy.
"Well you can't blame them."
Had it ever been to make them happy though? Or had it been his own ambitions that had clouded his vision? They had never desired more then what they had...it had always been him...always...ever since mother had died...as if her death was urging him on, urging him to make his mark on the world. Was that it? Had the realisation of father's own mortality driven him away from the happiness he so easily stepped away from? Had it made him blind to his own children? Had it driven him to the point he would do anything to get what they 'deserved'?
"What do you mean? There were elves in the city too, filthy ones, but elves, why would I be of any interest? Perhaps they fear a strong elf?"
Father had always said history was written by the victors. That heroes were simply the victors and the villains their enemies. Nathaniel had interpreted as not to judge the losers in war too harshly, that they too had had a reason for their actions. But...what if that was really just used as an excuse? What if it was used to justify ones own actions? That if victorious you could call yourself hero, no matter how cruel and inhumanely you had acted to gain that victory? If father had thought upon it like that...
"Perhaps...or perhaps they were admiring the twin peaks?"
Then I never truly knew him...Nathaniel swallowed, a shudder running down his spine, his forehead creasing in a frown. Could I have been so blind? His sister had spoken the truth, it was a more coloured story then the one Nathaniel had heard from the bards when he had returned from the Free Marchers, but it was still the same one. The story of his father, a cruel opportunist who had aided the traitor Loghain, who had risked the fate of the entire nation in a bid of personal ambition. He was always ambitious...and opportunistic...but cruel...and without thinking of the nation?
"I...what?"
He shook his head, drawing a shuddering breath. No...he never cared much for Ferelden, it was always about the family...of gaining position. Cruel though...Nathaniel grimaced, old memories of seeing the man kick elven servants around until things ended with broken bones entering his mind uninvited. Nathaniel had been afraid at his young age and always hid away when that happened, but however much he hid he always heard...heard the cries, the begging... Father knew how to be cruel...
"The bountiful hills and smooth trunks beneath?"
His sister's tale was...had to be...true...and that hurt. Hurt his pride, hurt his family's name...but mostly it hurt feelings. All the memories...they're tainted. He remembered so many happy times with his father, despite it all...he had smiled whenever he had a moment with the man. But now he remembered the forced happiness, the way he had struggled to smile, knowing he had little time with his father, knowing that the moment at any time could turn nasty...that he was more fearful then happy...
"We were in a city, there were no hills, and those few trees were filthy."
My childhood was a lie, a lie I told myself. Nathaniel closed his eyes momentarily, a mix of grief and self-ridicule stabbing at him. Grief because of what he had lost, or rather, never had had. Self-ridicule because of what he had told himself, that he had prided himself in his logic, of taking things at face-value, of never deceiving himself with dreams and folly...only to find that he had been the greatest fool he had ever encountered.
"The curves and spires?"
And Nathaniel had nearly killed his father's killer...it shamed him. Not only would that have further shamed his family's name in the opinion of the people...but it would have been a truly dishonourable act. For she had been right to kill him, for he had done wrong, for he had been the one shaming the family...she had stopped further dishonour to befall upon the Howe's...and he had repaid her with hatred and scorn.
"Are you just making things up?"
Bitterness, it welled up within him, galled him, the knowledge of what he had to do, what honour demanded of him. I can't do it...
"The great pair and their supportive cast?"
I have to do it...
"Nathaniel?" Velanna's question seemed to come from a great distance as she turned to him, the way she still elongated the 'e' in the name barely registering to him. "Do you know what the fool is speaking of?"
He shrugged, dutifully replying even as his weary eyes moved up to look at the Commander marching ahead of them. "He is suggesting that you should dress more."
Velanna snorted. "More...what?" Making Anders snicker.
Another shrug, Nathaniel not really caring enough to explain. "Just more."
"You mean..." Velanna suddenly spluttered . "Gods!" Anders laughed, loudly. "That's...that's disgusting! Those filthy brutish...creatures!"
Nathaniel sighed as he increased the length of his steps., his voice low: "They are only human..." Then he forced himself to raise it, to call out. "Commander!"
The elf stopped and turned, cold eyes focusing on him. "Yes?"
"I..." Nathaniel inclined his head, biting his lower lip as he struggled for words, a crushing pressure building up within his chest, threatening to overcome him. Pride and honour struggling, memories and pain colliding, bitterness and knowledge crushing his lungs.
The elf cocked her head to the side. "Out with it."
Dammit.
Bowing his head Nathaniel took a deep breath...and slipped onto one knee, his arms stretching out wide to the side in the old sign of complete humility, of putting yourself completely at the mercy of the one before you.
Behind him he heard Anders gasp and Velanna mutter some confused question.
Under him he felt the mud give way before his knee, saw Lynn's feet shift in what nearly looked like discomfort.
"I owe you thanks, and..." He spoke the words despite his pride, honour demanding them. His lips moved, despite the memories demanding him to stop, the pain forcing them to move. His throat dried up as bitterness tried to strangle him, only for knowledge to force him to go on: "...an apology."
"What?" Lynn asked, her tone...odd.
Just say it. Nathaniel closed his eyes and let the words flow, forced himself to ignore the pain tearing through him. "You killed my father...and I thank you. He shamed the family, he got my brother killed through his actions, he got himself killed through his actions. The Howe name has always stood for honour and righteousness...and you saved it from being further drawn through the mud by my father. You saved not only the name, but him...from himself." It hurts...say it. "I did not wish to believe this, I closed my eyes to the facts...and I apologise, I...was wrong."
No answer, the elf shifting where she stood.
Nathaniel didn't dare to look up as he continued, now unable to stop himself. "You have acted with honour where my father lacked it...I couldn't ask for anything else of my Commander...will you accept my apology?"
Silence.
The elf shifting her feet, perhaps pondering his fate, perhaps scowling at him in disgust.
"Apology accepted."
Nathaniel felt his shoulders slump with a surprising amount of relief as he saw Lynn turn on her heel and march on, letting him rise to his feet.
His shoulders remained slumped, his arms hanging limply to his sides, his eyes half-closed as he watched the elf move away with surprisingly hurried steps, not even glancing back at him.
He felt exhausted.
"Wow..." Anders whistled softly, the mage stepping up to Nathaniel's left, his arms crossed in front of him. "...that was some show there..." He shot Nathaniel a glance. "...are you okay?"
No. "Yes." Nathaniel muttered the answer, tired, weary...and surrounded by a strange feeling of...defeat. I did the right thing...
Yet it still felt wrong, that he had dishonoured his father and his family. I did the right thing... He squared his shoulders. Damn the emotions, I did the right thing.
"Liar." Velanna muttered, the elf stepping up to his right, her head slightly cocked as she observed him with narrowed eyes. There was no hostility in the gaze though, only a...curiosity. "You are upset."
Nathaniel actually found himself smirking at that. "Perhaps, but I will get over it." He swallowed, his throat thick. "I did the right thing...I just need to...convince myself of it."
"I..." Velanna hesitated, a question on her lips, then simply shrugged. "...see."
"What?" Anders shook his head, frowning in irritated confusion. "I don't...what in the blazes are you talking about? I mean you just said that-"
"Anders." Velanna snapped, glowering at the other mage. "Shut up."
"And again with the damn interrupti-"
"Just...shut up." Velanna sighed and looked away, a hand hovering over Nathaniel's shoulder, then lightly landing atop it for the briefest of moments.
Nathaniel's throat closed up at that. If she feels enough sympathy for that...he could only offer her a brief nod before he moved to follow their Commander, set on staying alone with his thoughts.
I did the right thing...and I hate that.
888
Thanks to Abydos Jackson for the praise. ;-)