Well, this story is certainly being very entertaining to write, so I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am. As I am taking a very open approach to the writing of this story, I want to remind my readers that I am open to suggestions regarding this story (by suggestions I mean... well... anything). If you have an idea, just let me know in reviews or through PMs. Also, I need more criticism! Please. If you wish to see me continue to improve as a writer, you need to tell me what I am doing wrong.
Anyway, enjoy chapter 3 of Legendary! This one was very interesting to write.
Chapter 3: Prominence
There are always shadows dancing to the beat of the flames, Nathaniel remembered. An old seer in the Free Marches told him that once. Nathaniel called her an insane old bat. She laughed.
But in time, Nathaniel grew to understand the meaning of her words. Wherever there is an illustrious flame, shadows will follow it, evil will ever be at the edges of its reach, ready to snuff it out.
So had Nathaniel's father died, alone and innocent, his honor dragged through the mud, his name sullied forever. And that Cousland, that Fergus, still lived, a Teyrn of a ghost keep where he lived amongst the shadows of his own past, his dead family. It was punishment enough for an innocent man.
No. Nathaniel didn't want vengeance on the Couslands. He wanted to kill the one who ended his father's life. He wanted the head of the Hero of Ferelden, but he had lost his chance. Adrian Amell was gone, disappeared forever in the annals of time with a sword thrust through his heart. So Nathaniel had to settle upon Adrian's companions, those that assisted in his father's demise.
Sten, the mighty qunari, had disappeared back to his homeland with the dog. No chance to find him there.
Morrigan, one of the shadows flitting about Adrian's grand flame, disappeared without a trace.
Leliana, the beautiful bard, was a master of deception and disguise. No easy target, and definitely not a wise first target.
Shale and Wynne had last been seen in the Tevinter Imperium, unfortunately for Nathaniel. Too far away and too little time. They would have to wait.
As for Zevran and Rayne, only rumors surrounded the pair of elves. Some said they had taken over separate sects of the Antivan Crows and were battling each other for power, other said they ruled the famous assassins together with an iron fist.
And since Alistair was the King of Ferelden, that left only one target: The dwarf. Oghren.
Nathaniel paused as he finally unlocked the door, swinging it wide to reveal the treasure chamber of Vigil's Keep. There were no guards about, as the rogue knew all their shifts. Slowly, with a careful gait, he sneaked inside.
Again Nathaniel thought of his past, of his recent mistakes. Unfortunately, even when Nathaniel stood over Oghren's side when he lay in the muck of the tavern floor, passed out drunk, he could not strike that final blow. He wasn't able to kill Oghren. He could not stoop to the level of his father's murderers, so he decided simply upon regaining his family artifacts.
Easy enough. He was already in the treasure room. All that was left was to-
"Hey!" Nathaniel turned, readying a bow. A man wearing the crest of the Wardens stood in the doorway, sword in hand. "What're you doing here, rogue? Nobody but Seneschal Rowland is allowed in here!"
"Just taking a look around," Nathaniel tried to put on his most convincing look, but the Warden was not amused. "You know, gaze upon the riches of the people above us."
"Keep talking, thief." The Warden approached, shouting for reinforcements.
"Wonderful..." Nathaniel cursed his luck, realizing he would have to fight anyhow. Drawing his sword, Nathaniel charged.
It took many, many Wardens to bring him down, so great was his rage.
ooo
"Awaken, boy." The voice called to him, seductive yet harsh. Nathaniel felt his body shift, dragging him away from his dreams. Again the voice called, soothing yet terrifying. Something about it drew him towards it. Curiosity, wonderment... answers.
Slowly, Nathaniel fall from his dreams, his mind drifting back to reality. Cold, hard reality, that of a jail cell, greeted his eyes as they slowly opened. The only light was from a torch outside his cell. A guard sat underneath, except... it was no guard.
There was a man donned in a fine black robe, a vicious sword hanging from his belt. The man slowly tapped his golden staff into the ground, staring at Nathaniel. The young Howe could barely see his face, but the eyes gripped him. Fierce, blood red. The eyes of a killer. The eyes of ruthlessness, as if he was staring at a demon given human form.
"You don't look like a guard." Nathaniel sneered, hiding his uncertainty of the man. There was no reason to feel fear, so the Howe did not. There was, however, a caution Nathaniel felt compelled to obey.
"I am many things, Nathaniel Howe." The man grinned, the friendly look almost making him appear trustworthy, but Nathaniel knew better. "A slave of the law is not one. I operate outside the conventional norm, and so my powers are not best served dealing with petty, unimportant crime."
"Truly, I am impressed." Nathaniel retorted coldly. "And what manner of fool are you? Should I be amazed by your rhetoric or simply intrigued by your lack of sanity?"
The man rose slowly, walking closer to the cell. He grabbed the bars, staring inside at Nathaniel, who lay against the wall on the other side. Through the dark, the Howe could only barely see the strange man, but the eyes shone despite the darkness, like a cat waiting to jump its prey.
"You need to be nothing, my friend." The man smiled again. "For your simple presence, your life, is all that is necessary."
"Speak sense, you joke." Nathaniel shot, standing in an attempt to intimidate the man. He didn't so much as blink.
"I'm going to set you free." Nathaniel started to speak, but stopped upon realizing what the man had said. Confused, Nathaniel let him continue. "But you have to fulfill a promise for me."
"I won't guarantee I'll do it. Most likely I'll leave and never come back." Nathaniel gripped the bars, staring straight into the man's eyes.
Their gazes remained locked for some time, neither speaking. Nathaniel felt his confidence rise, so he smirked. The other man's face remained blank, eternally unimpressed by whatever he was seeing.
"I want you to kill Darius Caron, the new Arl of Amaranthine, the acting Seneschal." The man spoke finally, his tone even. "The throne room is not far from here and none of the guards will recognize you."
"How can you guarantee that?" Nathaniel spit, grinding his teeth down into a snarl, slowly becoming annoyed with the man. "If I remember correctly, half the keep saw my face when I was carted into this dungeon in the first place."
The man said nothing, backing away slowly. He waved his hand and the door to the prison cell unlatched, slowly swinging open.
"Adieu, Nathaniel." The man smiled, slowly backing away into the shadows. Soon enough, he was gone.
ooo
Sunlight. It had been too long since the grace of light had reached Nathaniel's eyes. It was beautiful, the sights and sounds mixing together to form a beautiful synesthetic melody within his mind. He reached behind him, feeling the familiar weight of his bow, safe again with the protection of his armor.
All around him people moved, repairing walls, setting up shops, talking, joking, moving about in stark contrast to the world within the lone holding cell. But one thing grabbed Nathaniel's attention, drawing him away from his relief of being re-exposed to the outside world after those weeks of being within the dungeon.
There wasn't so much as half the people as before. Maybe a third or fourth. The guards presence was minimal and no Grey Wardens were in sight. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, in worried voices. The walls were broken – hence the reason for the repairs being done – but why?
What the hell happened?
Nathaniel wandered towards a group of people conversing, hoping to get a sense of events around him, but their conversation revealed nothing. Just a bunch of people wondering about a missing woman.
Slowly, Nathaniel walked towards the gate into Vigil's Keep. He needed answers, but also food and water, having been deprived of both for nearly two days now. Nathaniel started to worry that whatever happened to the keep was the reason why the guards no longer came to his cell to deliver meals.
Finally, the word he needed struck his ears. Nathaniel turned sharply, to where a blacksmith and a shopkeeper conversed in low tones, but just loud enough for Nathaniel to make out what they were saying. Slowly, the Howe edged closer, trying to figure everything out.
"But Herren, this place is drab and weary, not to mention how close I got to getting stabbed the other day!" The blacksmith whined, rubbing his mustache worriedly. "And all the people are so mean. Why can't they just appreciate my genius? Back in Denerim, I had respect!"
"In Denerim, the people were giving you a wide berth, not respect, Wade!" The other man, Herren, responded, shaking his head while laying down weapons upon a table. "And I told you nothing bad would happen to us, so quit your complaining. Working for the Grey Wardens will make us much more money than simply acquisitioning armor and weapons for idiot nobles in Denerim."
"I've been asked to make thirty suits of silverite mail within the next two weeks. Thirty!" Wade sighed, as if his entire world was crumbling apart around him. Nathaniel smiled, amused at the spectacle. "It's so boring I could just curl up and die. I wish those darkspawn hadn't attacked..."
Nathaniel's breath caught. A darkspawn attack? He backed away slowly, turning to face the rest of the Vigil courtyard. How did Nathaniel hear nothing? Well, he did hear something. There were screams, loud noises, but he thought nothing of them. Looking about the courtyard now, it made sense. Red stains covered walls, walls broken as if by some massive outside force. Scratches and scrapes on most solid surface and the general feeling of dread pervaded everything.
But he still had a mission. Nathaniel knew Oghren was here, and he was the original purpose for coming to Vigil's Keep. To avenge his family. If the dwarf had died in the darkspawn attack, then all the better, but the stories spoke of him as a magnificent dwarven general unafraid of death and darkspawn. Oghren could wade into a throng of foes, swing his mighty axe and emerge victorious after smiting every foe, and friend, within a mile radius.
Nathaniel liked a challenge.
He stalked towards the portcullis, slipping inside, hoping not to have been seen. Slowly making his way through the Keep, he headed upwards to where the throne room lay. If Oghren wasn't there, then Nathaniel would need to ask questions, which was not a good strategy to staying inconspicuous.
"Excuse me?" Nathaniel turned sharply, coming face to face with an elven serving girl. Strangely enough, her hair was pure white, her eyes a light purple. "Visitors are not allowed in this part of the keep."
Shit... Nathaniel thought, thinking fast. Giving up on remaining completely invisible, Nathaniel spoke in as kind a voice as he could manage. "I'm sorry for troubling you, my lady, but can you tell me where Oghren, the dwarf, is?"
"You mean the foul mouthed Warden hopeful who gropes every serving girl he sets his eyes upon?" The elf sighed, pointing down the hallway to Nathaniel's right. "I last saw him after the mass funeral. He started drinking and belching up a storm. I think he passed out in the throne room, or something."
"Thank you, my lady." Nathaniel nodded, starting to sprint towards the throne room.
"Wait!" The albino elf called after him, causing Nathaniel to skid in his tracks. Turning to look back at her, he noticed she had cocked her head, staring at him strangely. "Have we met before? What's your name?"
"E-Ernest." Nathaniel said, hoping he came off as convincing. He had never been a good liar. The albino elf simply nodded, turning away. After a moment she looked back at him, smiling.
"It's truly nice to meet you, Ser Ernest." She said before walking away. Nathaniel again thanked her before running in the direction of the throne room. If Oghren was there...
The idea of killing another did not weigh well on his mind, but Nathaniel knew vengeance was the way of the world. Maybe it would accomplish nothing, or maybe it would set his father's death straight. It mattered little what would happen after, only that Oghren paid for Rendon Howe's suffering.
Nathaniel could only hope the dwarf wasn't innocent.
ooo
"Get up dwarf, before you make the carpet smell like a brewery too." Nathaniel peered around a corner, gazing into the throne room. A blonde man in robes stood over a dwarf, who lay on the ground with his back facing Nathaniel.
"But here I can peer up your skirt, mage." The dwarf, Nathaniel assumed he was Oghren, erupted into laughter. "What's that you're wearing? Panties? A thong? They suit you!"
The mage crossed his arms, rolling his eyes while the dwarf rocked back and forth, laughing so hard he started coughing, then choking. The mage simply watched as the dwarf heaved, expelling a large chunk of food halfway across the room.
"Not only are you funny, but you're an interior designer." The mage shook his head, staring at the spot on the wall where the chunk hung to. "What else is in your vast repertoire of parlor tricks and drinking games? What other hidden talents do you possess? No wait, let me guess. You can fart the lullaby, right?"
"Actually..." Oghren smiled childishly, a soft squeak erupting from his behind. The mage turned away in disgust. "There's A!"
"Enough, you two. There's someone here to see us." Nathaniel turned, trying to find whoever the third voice mentioned. Before long, the sinking feeling in his stomach revealed that the voice was actually referring to Nathaniel himself. "Come on out, rogue. I know exactly which pillar you're hiding behind. Why not speak to us civilly rather than a cowardly shadow?"
Nathaniel stepped into plain sight slowly, his bow leveled on the dwarf. The third, previously unseen speaker sat on the throne, his back straight and gaze level.
Seneschal Darius Caron. Nathaniel thought, noting the Warden insignia emblazoned on the front of the man's leather armor. Two swords rested against the throne, equal in size, shape and sharpness.
"What do you want? Why do you point a bow at us?" Darius narrowed his eyes. "You do realize that as soon as you shoot one of us that, even if you manage to kill your target, you will be overwhelmed and slaughtered by the remaining two of us, right?"
Nathaniel remained silent. He knew if he was fast he could take out the mage and the dwarf before Darius reached him, but by then he would be out of options with his bow. The man was smart, and spoke the truth.
"Put the bow down. I'd rather know why you have come here with a weapon pointed against the Grey Wardens." Darius stood, his swords gripped in his hands.
"My name is Nathaniel Howe and I've come to avenge my father, Rendon Howe, rightful ruler of Amaranthine!" Nathaniel nearly shouted, still trying to discern which of the three was most dangerous, and thus should be shot down first. "This traitorous dwarf assisted in my father's murder, and so he is a man destined only for death."
"Sodded ingrate! I wasn't even around when your father kicked the dirt. I only poked around in the dirt of his crushed estate to find the damned body!" Oghren shouted, standing. He seemed enraged, which was a trait Nathaniel had often heard said of the dwarf. "Your father was a shaft-grazing son of a whore anyway, kid. Tough break, but he deserved to die."
"Don't you dare speak that way of my father!" Nathaniel snapped, despite his mind demanding he kept calm, controlled. "He was a good man! A just man! He was merely a victim of being on the wrong side of this war! If he threw his lot in with Adrian he would have lived to honor my family name further!"
"If you're wishing death, then you can come and get it." Oghren picked up his great axe, which had been lying a few feet away. "But don't hide behind that fancy stick of yours. Face me like a sodding man. One on one. A duel."
"Oghren, wai-" Darius started, but Oghren cut him off.
"Nobody falsely accuses Oghren without paying the price." Oghren roared, swinging his battle axe over his head, bringing it down upon the floor, splitting the stone it impacted. "And the price is death! Sod it all, I'll be shining my shoes with your blood!"
Oghren charged as Nathaniel loosed an arrow, striking the dwarf in his shoulder, but he didn't so much as flinch. Ignoring Oghren's incomprehensible shouting, Nathaniel nocked another arrow, aiming for the dwarf's heart, but to no avail. Oghren arrived first, chopping with his axe, slicing viciously down the front of the wood.
"Shit!" Nathaniel sputtered, dropping the now-useless hunk of wood. He drew his sword, backing away a few feet. Oghren paused, examining the wound in his shoulder, a broad smile adorning his drunken face.
"Don't feel nothing, human." To accentuate this, Oghren grabbed the arrow and yanked it out. Blood splattered across the ground, only to be stepped upon as the dwarf drew closer to Nathaniel.
Oghren shouted, bringing his axe into the air. He feinted, slicing sideways as Nathaniel dodged to the left. Feeling the axe scratch his side, Nathaniel grimaced. He should have seen that coming.
"Give it up, boy!" The dwarf shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. Nathaniel didn't respond, parrying the next blow, then the next. He backed away slowly, letting dwarf attack, swinging wildly and laughing.
Nathaniel found his chance, narrowly rolling under Oghren's next swipe. Getting his footing, Nathaniel pivoted, stabbing at Oghren's exposed flank. The sword broke flesh, driving in an inch or two.
"My ass!" Oghren roared, ripping the sword out of Nathaniel's grasp as he turned viciously, axe swinging. Now unarmed, all Nathaniel could do was dodge backwards, avoiding the dwarf's mad blows.
Nathaniel noted the other Wardens in the room. Arl Darius still sat, but leaned in with curiosity while examining the fight. The mage stood by his side, unsure of how to act. A deepstalker lay on the ground to the other side, staring intently at Nathaniel. Oghren finally stopped swinging, most likely realizing that he needed to conserve his strength.
"C'mon," Oghren slammed his free fist into his chest, puffing it out. "Take a stride. Take the plunge. I'll gladly tear your pretty face in two, boy."
Nathaniel could wait no longer. He ran forward, straight towards Oghren. He stopped himself moments after Oghren started to swing, leaning back just enough to avoid the swing before righting himself, charging at Oghren. He drew his only weapon, a hidden dagger, from its boot sheath, jabbing it into Oghren's arm, but not fast enough.
With a roar, the dwarf socked Nathaniel in the stomach, then in the crotch. The Howe stumbled backwards, contorting his body in pain. Nathaniel felt his legs give way as the handle of Oghren's axe swept them out beneath him.
He landed on his back, his vision going blank for just a second, the wind escaping from his lungs swiftly. As he opened his eyes, he spied his sword just a few feet away. Nathaniel reached for it, only to find an axe at his throat.
"Don't even try." Oghren stood over him, blood running freely from numerous wounds, but still he grinned. "One move and off your head goes. Slowly. Hell, I prefer it if you scream too. Makes it more fun."
"Then kill me." Nathaniel rolled, lunging towards his blade. He stopped short a foot away as the flat of the axe head impacted his skull. Stars danced in front of his vision for a second from the weight of the blow as Nathaniel lay still, disoriented. He could hear the air move as Oghren raised his blade, ready to take off his head.
"Wait, Oghren!" Nathaniel looked up as weariness, likely from a concussion, gnawed at the edges of his vision. Darius had stood, swords in hand, striding towards Nathaniel.
He felt himself get rolled over as Darius sat on his chest and arms, blades resting against his neck. Oghren grunted, backing away, snorting and mentioning something vulgar, though Nathaniel was too concussed to make out what.
"You fight well, stranger." Darius spoke, his voice even. How odd, considering Nathaniel just tried to kill his underling. "If you would like to spare yourself death, I have a proposition for you."
"Just end my life, coward!" Nathaniel spit, raising his head as far as he could. "Kill me like you Wardens killed my father! There will be no one to mourn me, so go ahead!"
"I'm afraid criminals don't make decisions." Darius smiled in what seemed a thoughtful way, though Nathaniel couldn't tell about what. "I hereby conscript you into the Grey Wardens, Nathaniel Howe. You will serve us until the moment you last draw breath, whether you wish it to be so or not."
"No!" Nathaniel shouted, draining the rest of his strength. He felt his head impact the ground again, his consciousness fading, but he needed to say more. He needed to deny this! "I will not join! I will not... KILL ME! Kill me if you know mercy, but do not enlist me in the very organization that murdered my father! I will not... allow... it..."
Nathaniel trailed off, his vision weakening. Darius simply smiled, ushering the mage over. Nathaniel could feel the deepstalker sniff his face, but he focused on the fading Warden.
"I will not..." Nathaniel tried to force out, only to find he lacked the strength. "join you..."
"Heal him, Anders. His Joining is tonight." Was the last he heard before succumbing to his weariness.
ooo
"Nathaniel Howe, step forward please. You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good." He did as was told, one hand bound behind his back, the other magically paralyzed in such a way that it would hold the cup but nothing else. He hesitated, staring out of the large tower. He remembered climbing up here as a child, seeking refuge from the boredom of everyday life. How ironic that his favorite place of escape was now to become where his life-sentence of servitude would start.
He took the goblet, examining it as one would an enemy. Sniffing it, Nathaniel blanched, but saw only two choices. Drink the goblet and either die or be pressed into service for the remainder of his life, or don't drink the goblet and be cast out from the top of the tower by an angry dwarf.
"I hope I die." Nathaniel took the goblet, letting his curiosity get the better of him. He drank it slowly, relishing the burning taste, the fire rushing down his throat as it reached within him, the taint taking hold.
Immediately he dropped the glass, his vision becoming blurry, his legs becoming weak. Migraines tore through his skull as he bent over, everything around him going dark.
ooo
Pain. Images of death, pain, destruction besieged him every angle. To his left a woman and her child were impaled upon spears. To his right an innocent man had templar swords run through him. Fire burned villages, towns, farms, people. Fire consumed all.
And above the din rose a song, beautiful, harmonic. Every note brilliantly accompanied by another, a perfect soliloquy of emptiness and despair given musical shape. Nathaniel found himself drawn to it, his steps ignoring the death around him, focusing instead upon the music.
He walked for miles in darkness and pain, it seemed, but finally there was a light. Within the darkness sat a girl in a black dress, who sat atop a rock whilst gazing wistfully at the night sky. She was surrounded by dark forms, raising and falling as if in praise... or perhaps fear. She turned slowly, smiling softly as Nathaniel approached.
"Where am I?" Nathaniel blurt out immediately, hoping he seemed intimidating enough to the girl to get an answer. He wasn't sure why, but she seemed off, different from all else about him. He sensed something within her, but knew not what.
"Don't ask questions, Nathaniel." The girl said softly. She stood slowly, jumping from the rock. Instantly the sea of shadows parted, giving her a wide berth as she approached Nathaniel. "For you are not the one in need of answers."
"The hell if I'm not!" Nathaniel felt his anger rise. He walked the rest of the distance to the girl threateningly, but the shadows placed themselves between them, protecting her.
"No. There is another. The one who freed you." The girl looked away, as if sad. "He can see a great tragedy fast approach, yet chooses to idly watch, to play games with mortal lives. He has tasted freedom and become seduced by it. He has forsaken his responsibility as a god amongst men."
"Speak sense!" Nathaniel clenched his fists, annoyed by her vague speech.
"The one who should be dead. The one I brought back from death." The girl looked at him again, approaching slowly. The shadows parted as she steadily grew closer. Soon she stood directly in front of Nathaniel, her piercing heterochromic eyes boring into Nathaniel's mind. "He has tasted power and fallen in love with it. He has destroyed the demon, but destroyed himself in the process. I should have foreseen this."
"What is this?" Nathaniel backed away a step. "Who are you?"
"I am part of you, for you have drank of my blood." The girl turned away, waving her hand. The shadows again surrounded her as Nathaniel felt himself fall away from everything. Whatever this torturous landscape was, it was dissipating. "And know this, mortal. There is one who must be redeemed. There is one who wishes revenge. Your life has greater meaning than you know, but tragedy mars it."
"Why!" Alarmed, Nathaniel forced his mind to refocus on the scenes about him. "What tragedy will befall me!"
"Not your tragedy, but it is a tragedy to you. Indeed, you will live a long time, mortal." The girl vanished, the scene disappearing, leaving him with only her final words.
"But you will never be happy."
ooo
Nathaniel forced his eyes open, slowly returned to his senses. After a moment, he realized he was laying on the floor of the tower with Darius standing over him, offering a hand to the fallen Warden.
"Piss off." Nathaniel slapped the hand away, sitting up himself. After a moment of silence, he spoke.
"I may be a Warden," Nathaniel said slowly, gazing across the tower. "But you do not have my loyalty."