CHAPTER 2 – Jailhouse Blues

Considering everything she knew of the late Arl Rendon Howe, the Vigil's dungeons turned out to be, well…nothing at all as Alyx had envisioned them. She wasn't exactly sure what she had been expecting; only that she assumed they would be a bit more…impressive. Especially after seeing the renovations the crazy bastard had made to the Arl of Denerim's Estate first hand. She shivered, remembering the hell hole she had found herself in while trying to "rescue" Queen Anora from the man's vindictive clutches during the blight. Creepy, as Alistair used to say, would be putting it lightly. Instead of a blood-spattered torture chamber that was more along the lines of the late Arl's tastes, the room she currently stood in was small and sparse, featuring a mere handful of cells lined against the far wall. Only one appeared to be presently occupied.

The cell was heavily shadowed but she could still make out the figure of a man in the gloom thanks to a small chink in the wall, spilling in just enough light to clearly see his profile amid the wildly dancing dust motes. The prisoner sat on a soiled bedroll in the corner of the sparsely furnished cell, his large frame propped against the damp stone wall, arms resting loosely across his knees. His head was thrown back to reveal sculpted, aristocratic features framed by loose strands of hair that had fallen out of its leather thong, no doubt meant to keep the shoulder-length raven locks from falling into his face. Alyx froze, her heart thrumming with a sudden, inexplicable disquiet as she took in every detail of the stranger's appearance. He was not what one would call classically handsome, however she could admit (albeit begrudgingly) that there was a certain appeal to the man's rugged features. Yet it still did not explain the unease steadily building just beneath her breastbone. There was something in his manner, in the taught-ness of his body that told her that he was well aware that she was scrutinizing him and was merely biding his time…Dangerous, flashed through her mind over and over again like a warning knell.

"…Locked up for the past three nights now. Good men died while this one was protected in his cell," the man next to her growled in disgust as he shot the prisoner a murderous glance. "I'd say he was just a thief, but it took four Grey Wardens to capture him."

Alyx blinked, realizing that she hadn't really been paying attention to what the poor prison guard had been saying up until now. She glanced at the young man, an earnest yet unremarkable sort with the transparent desire to impress her. Poor sod, she thought as she politely pretended not to notice how red his face had gotten in the short distance from the door to the center of the room.

"Four Wardens you say?" Alyx asked instead.

"That's right.' Hardly believe it me'self if I hadn't seen it with m'own two eyes," the guard replied with a sniff.

"Who is he?" she asked curiously, her gaze returning to the prisoner.

"Wouldn't say…just stares daggers every time we interrogate'em. I'd bet two weeks' pay he's no ordinary burglar—err, if I was the bettin' sort, ma'am…Commander Ser," the guard added as he remembered who he was speaking to.

Hmm, interesting, she thought. Approaching the cell she lowered her hood to get a better look at the man. There was something oddly familiar about him, though she couldn't quite place him. Had they met? No. She would have remembered such a man. And yet…

"Leave me talk with him," she ordered without glancing at the guard.

"Err…Very well, Warden-Commander," the young man replied hesitantly, walking only as far as the front door.

At the sound of her voice the prisoner had turned to look at her. Sharp, silverite eyes scrutinized every inch of her, curiously at first but with a sudden, surprising malevolence. She could feel the rage rolling off of him in waves and yet when he stood to approach her it was with a single, fluid movement that spoke volumes about his skill. It was all she could do not to flinch back as he grasped the cell bars between two large, white-knuckled hands and sneered down at her arrogantly.

"Well, well," he drawled in a low, mocking voice. "If it isn't the Hero of Fereldan; defeater of the blight and all-mighty slayer of the darkspawn horde! Somehow I thought you'd be a little…taller."

Alyx's nostril's flared at the jibe. Her height had always been a sore point with her, but she refused to let this man taunt her.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Ser thief. You appear to know who I am, but if we've met it seems I've had the poor manners to forget."

"We have never met. We do, however, have an acquaintance in common."

"Have we? Please do enlighten me," she retorted, sarcasm dripping from her every word as she crossed her arms in front of her protectively.

"I doubt you'd recall a man you murdered in cold blood. I'd expect it's something that comes as naturally as breathing to you Wardens."

"Beg pardon?" she gasped.

"My name is Nathaniel Howe. You murdered my father," he spat, white fire in his eyes as he loomed over her menacingly.

Nathaniel Howe!

Alyx could hardly believe what she was hearing. As much as she wanted to deny it, all the puzzle pieces snapped into place as she stared at him. The evidence was there in his face…irrefutable no matter how much she wished it to be so. , her brain groaned beneath the roaring in her ears.

"Arl Rendon Howe was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent men and women!" Alyx cried in soft indignation.

Including my family, you dimwitted lout! She silently added, seething. How dare he accuse her of murder!

"Lies!" he hissed back. "My father loyally served country and crown, as twelve generations of Howe's did before him…And what did he get in return? Cut down in his prime in his own estate, his land and titles revoked, his family left with nothing. The Howe's are pariahs now…what few of us are left at any rate, and I have you to thank for it."

Alyx unexpectedly softened at these last words. Through the hate in his voice she could hear both pain and confusion…emotions she herself had become very well acquainted with.

"I never wished ill will on the rest of your family Nathaniel, but your father more than deserved his fate," she said softly, her chin going up a stubborn notch.

"And who are you to judge that?" he snarled at her.

Alyx's brow crumpled in confusion…who was she…? And then it occurred to her. Either Nathaniel knew nothing of her family's fate or he had no idea who she really was. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Oh, the irony! Either way, she felt it best to keep her identity a secret from him until she knew whether or not he had been involved in his sire's unscrupulous designs.

"I witnessed many of his injustices firsthand," she retorted as she folded her hands demurely in front of her, an action that belied the fire that lay beneath her cool words. "Tell me…did you know anything of your father's plans? Or are you disparaging my character on speculation alone?"

Howe blanched at that, but only for a moment.

"I knew nothing. I have been in the Free Marches for the better part of a decade, having been squired there from a tender age. I returned to Fereldan a fortnight ago only to learn the fate of my family from a few of the friendlier patrons of the Crown and Lion."

"You took the word of some drunks? On the fate of your family?" she gasped in disbelief.

"Their claims have thus far proven correct," he said with a wholly masculine shrug.

"Men," she huffed to herself in annoyance, not even pretending to understand such a course of action.

Secretly she was relieved to hear Nathaniel's self-proclaimed ignorance. Though she had been little more than a child the last time she had seen him, Alyx recalled a boy who had been both proud and honorable. That Nathaniel would never have tolerated the travesties his father had unleashed during the blight. However, she conceded that the same boy had desperately sought his Father's attentions and thus, had been loyal to Rendon to a fault. She would never know for certain. Not unless she was willing to give him the one thing that could bring forth the truth…time. But was she willing to take such a risk on him? This man that barely resembled the boy she once knew?

Garevel had said he'd been caught stealing from the Vigil in the middle of the night…it was more likely Nathaniel had only been taking what had been his to begin with. If he had other plans, well, then they had obviously been thwarted. Inwardly shrugging she knew that there was only one way to find out his true intentions.

"Guardsman," she called.

"Here, Commander."

"Unlock the cell. I find speaking through metal bars to be intolerable."

"A-are you sure about that, my Lady?"

"Do you always question orders?" she retorted, her eyes narrowing at the man.

"I…ah… that is to say—Right away, Commander," he stuttered, fumbling with the keys as he jumped to do as she ordered.

Poor fool, she thought, shaking her head.

"Thank you. Now, listen very carefully. No matter what happens when you open that door, do not intervene unless I implicitly ask you to. Do you understand?" she said, her voice cold with authority.

"Y-yes, my Lady."

"Good man," she said, slapping his back good-naturedly.

A few moments later she heard the latch give and the door swung open with a screech. No sooner did she step in to the cell then did she find herself slammed against the wall, Nathaniel's hand encircling her neck.

"Bad move, Commander," he said in a low, husky voice that sent shivers down her spine. Her breath hitched in her throat as she met his steely gaze. His face was only inches from hers, a sneer curling his upper lip. "You see, I came here with the intention of killing you…my father's murderer. Admittedly once I arrived I cared nothing more than to retrieve what few belongings still remained of my family's. But now…It would be so easy to snap that lovely neck of yours," he purred, his fingers reflexively digging into the tender skin surrounding her jugular. "Just a flick of my wrist, and it would all be over. Your guard dog would never make it across the room in time to save you."

Alyx didn't fight his grasp. Though his words were cruel his grip was not. She could see he took no pleasure in the idea of killing her, but neither was he ready to release her. She swiftly tried to surmise a weakness, calculating that distraction was her best chance. Instinctively she let her eyes soften, her lips parting seductively. It was enough. The moment he hesitated she grabbed his arm and in one fluid motion she had him pinned against the wall, the arm that had been holding her twisted behind his back. He struggled once, but finding her grasp unbreakable he stopped. As an extra precaution she threw her weight into his back as she leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"You know, they didn't make me Commander simply because I was the last Fereldan Warden at the end of the blight."

"So I see. Well played, my Lady," he replied hoarsely, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.

"Guard!" she called, keeping a vice-grip hold on Nathaniel's arm.

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Have the Senechal brought forth. Tell him I've decided the prisoner's fate."

"Very well, Commander," he answered with a bow.

Though she could not see him she could hear the guard's footsteps departing, leaving her alone with him.

"If I let you go, will you promise to behave?" she asked him cautiously.

He chuckled, the sound reverberating against her chest.

"If I must," he answered. "As these are most likely my last moments, it would be a shame to waste them by making an utter fool of myself."

"Wise man," she murmured, letting his arm go and slowly backing out of the cell.

Nathaniel rubbed the offended appendage absentmindedly, throwing her a lop-sided smile that made her heart skip a beat. Before she could consider the possible meanings behind such a reaction, Senechal Varel entered the dungeon with the guardsman close behind him.

"Ser Fredrick tells me you've reached a decision about our young friend here," Varel said as he approached her. "Quite a handful, isn't he?"

"Indeed. Did you know that this is Nathaniel Howe?"

"Nat—A Howe?" Varel repeated in surprise. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as his gaze slid from her to Nathaniel, then back to her. "It figures. I suppose it was only a matter of time before one of them turned up. The Howe's are implacable enemies, both to the crown and to the Order…though I hardly need tell you that."

"As you say," Alyx replied, an ironic smile briefly touching her lips. Varel cleared his throat, his face coloring ever so slight in embarrassment as he realized the implications of his words.

"Then have you decided on a course of action, Commander?" he asked quickly, his voice coming out somewhat gruffer than usual.

"Yes, Varel. I wish to invoke the right of conscription," she stated authoritatively.

"What?" Nathaniel roared.

"The right of conscription? Are you sure, Commander?" Varel asked, his expression landing somewhere between disgust and surprise.

"Prepare the Joining. He will become a Warden, as I have ruled," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. That didn't stop Nathaniel from railing at her anyway.

"No! Absolutely not! Hang me first!" he cried, his hands slamming against the bars in abject fury.

"Here are your choices, Nathaniel," Alyx replied as she calmly approached him, stopping only when there was nothing save for the metal bars to separate them. "Leave here with nothing and spend the rest of your life in obscurity, or join the Wardens and redeem your family's name. Either way, I will not have your blood on my hands."

"I—"he began, his temper pulling up short as he studied her again, weighing her words with what was likely a healthy dose of doubt in her sincerity. "Do you really want a Howe as a Grey Warden? Especially one that just tried to kill you?" he asked incredulously.

"Some of my best friends have wanted me dead," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"You—You are a very strange woman, you know that?"

"So I've been told," she replied before turning to Varel. "Give him back his belongings. Let me know when the ritual is prepared."

"Yes, Commander," Varel replied reluctantly, his expression hardening as his gaze returned to Nathaniel. "Come with me, ser. We will see if you survive the joining."

*Muse Tunes: "Diego's Goodbye" by James Horner (Mask of Zorro OST); "Suspended Memories" by Paul Haslinger (Underworld OST)