Chapter 10 – Moving Forward

Nathaniel was hardly surprised to meet up with his companions in the road as he approached the Crown and Lion. He was surprised, however, at the blood that covered each of them from head to toe.

"What on Thedas—"

"Oh, this?" Falcon replied flippantly, a look of mock innocence crossing her face. "Just the result of some bandits with a desire to commit suicide via Grey Warden. Being the generous person that I am, I felt it only right to oblige them. Have a nice chat with your sister?"

Nathaniel blinked, astounded as always by her talent for abruptly shifting topics.

"Yes, I did at that," he replied, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched her blow a loose strand of hair from out of her eyes. "It isn't quite the life I would have pictured for her, but she seems to be happy."

"So, let me get this straight…because she isn't married to some slack-jawed, dimwitted nobleman you find it hard to believe that she could be happy?" she seethed, narrowing her eyes at him accusingly.

"That's not—what I mean is—why must you turn around everything that I say?" he sputtered irritably.

"I do not—"

"You do, and half of the time you won't even let me finish—"

"I don't—"

"Alyx!" he growled through clenched teeth as he closed the distance between them.

She looked taken aback though he couldn't say why. It's not as if he never called her by name before…hadn't he? Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as he took another step closer to her, forcing her to crane her neck in order to keep eye contact.

"Can we talk—in private?" he asked in a hoarse, low-pitched voice as he swiftly glanced at Oghren and Anders over her shoulder.

"I, ah…yes, of course," she mumbled, eyeing him quizzically as she addressed the others. "You two are dismissed. I'll see you at supper."

Oghren and Anders looked like they wanted to balk, but after a moment of hesitation they both nodded and headed for the inn. Nathaniel did not miss the looks on their faces as they passed by him. Anders' mouth was set in a grim line, clearly expressing his disapproval, and Oghren shot him a look of warning as he cracked his knuckles to exaggerate the not-so-subtle threat. He supposed he didn't deserve anything less, considering his behavior these past weeks, but it still aggravated him to see how little they really trusted him.

What, do they think I'm going to slit her throat and jump ship? He inwardly fumed.

It was amusing to think they even believed he could get the drop on the Commander in the first place. He might be an exceptional archer, but her talent with a blade far exceeded his own. That much had become clear in the weeks since his Joining.

Inwardly sighing, Nathaniel realized he had his work cut out for him if he was to mend his fences with his companions. He meant it when he had told Oghren that he would keep his oath. There were many facets of his personality that he was certainly not proud of, but he had always been a man of his word; a trait he didn't plan on changing any time soon. Apparently fighting the darkspawn beside them wasn't proof enough of his intentions. He had underestimated their loyalty to the Commander, especially Oghren, whom was fiercely protective of her.

They walked across the street to sit on a narrow stone bench situated in front of one of Amaranthine's many man-made ponds. Several small oaks weaved a canopy over their heads, casting them both in soft light composed of green and golden hues, only to be enhanced by the approaching twilight. Nathaniel shifted uneasily as he tried to gather his thoughts. He could feel her eyes on him, those eyes that were distinctly like her Father's; always watching, always calculating and absorbing their surroundings like a sponge. He found their intensity most disturbing. Perhaps that is why he was having trouble meeting them now. A cold feeling of apprehension licked down his spine. He thought he had known what he was going to say, but now that she was sitting here in front of him, he was at a loss for words. He concentrated on the sound of trickling water as he beseeched his nerves to calm. He realized too late that he should have waited until he was sure his emotions would not get the better of him, that this…confusion he felt would not cause him to do or say something he may regret later. A battle waged within him, and he was unsure of what the outcome would be.

"I'm sorry about my outburst earlier," she said, startling him from his thoughts. "It's just…well…one of the lay sisters introduced me to a woman in the chantry whose husband went missing several days ago. We found him, but it wasn't pretty. He…hung himself…from the rafters of an abandoned cottage just outside the city gates."

"No," Nathaniel gasped, eyes widening with surprise. That was certainly not what he'd been expecting.

"You would think that after all I've been through I would be used to the sight of dead bodies, but it never does get any easier. And to know that he did that to himself…Maker, what a waste! That poor woman…but it was not my intention to excuse myself in such a fashion; the discovery just…put me a little on edge is all."

"I would be more surprised if it had not affected you," Nathaniel murmured, instinctively placing a hand over hers.

She jumped a bit at the contact, making him pull his hand back almost immediately. Anger burned through him at the reaction but quickly faded when he noted her expression was one of surprise, not disgust. She must have seen something in his face because she shot him a look of apology before plastering a smile on her lips to cover her embarrassment.

"Here I am rambling on when it is you who wished to speak with me. What's on your mind?" she asked.

"It's about my discussion with Delilah," he began carefully. "She told me everything."

"About your father?" she asked, her face dropping.

"Yes. The dirty politics, the subterfuge, torturing innocents, even slave trade for Andraste's sake! I had no idea he had fallen so far. Wait—that's not quite right- I refused to believe he had fallen so far. I thought surely there had to be a reasonable explanation for his actions; that the accusations of treason and worse were nothing but lies spun out of pure malice. He had never been…he wouldn't have ever…not without an honorable reason. Not the man I knew," he explained, his voice hitching as he struggled to hold his emotions in check. "Even as the puzzle pieces all began to fit together I began to make excuses for him in my head.'It was a war', 'he did what he had to', but I couldn't quite believe it. Delilah told me he was a monster; that his…madness…began long before the blight."

"It's true," she said, sadness shining through her eyes. "Though he never showed open contempt towards my family, he had noticeably changed over the years. My Mother held no love for him, and had even begged my Father to cut ties with him altogether. I wish with all of my heart that he had listened to her."

His heart twisted at these softly spoken words. Though it had been three years since the siege, their deaths still obviously caused her pain. There was more to it then she was letting on, but now was not the time to ask. Guilt rose unbidden in his chest. Had I been here, I could have seen this coming, could have stopped him from committing the unthinkable.

"I am truly sorry for what he did to your family. I know that doesn't make up for their loss, but I…never wished any harm to come to them. Your parents were always kind to me, and Fergus…well, he was more of a brother to me than my own could've ever hoped to be."

"Ah, yes, Fergus. You will find him far less forgiving than myself. He lost more than any of us in the siege. Oriana and Oren were his life. He yet bears the pain of their loss."

"I can only imagine what he…what the both of you…have suffered. Do you truly believe he would blame me for their deaths?" he asked carefully.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes closing against the simple confession. "I am sorry to say that he would. Perhaps with time he could be made to see reason, but…it is hard to say how he would initially react."

"So you haven't told him you recruited me?"

"No, and I think it's best to keep it that way for the time being."

"I see," he said quietly, not quite happy with her response though he understood her reasoning. "At any rate, I didn't pull you aside to simply hash over my Father's transgressions. I…wanted to apologize for my behavior."

"You needn't," she said before he could continue. "I understand…perhaps more than you know. Had I been in your place, I might very well have acted the same. I won't lie to you Nathaniel. I spent a great deal of time during the blight planning my revenge, but in the end your father didn't give me a choice. Had I not killed him, he would have most assuredly killed me."

He nodded in understanding, though it was still difficult for him to hear. Despite everything he had done, Rendon Howe was still his father; the man who had dangled him and his siblings from his knees when they were children, who gave him his first bow and took pride in his skills as he grew into a young man.

"Why did you never tell me?" he asked suddenly.

"About which? Your Father wanting me dead or the extent of his misdeeds?"

"Any of it."

"Would you have believed me?" she asked, a look of wry amusement crossing her features.

"No. I don't suppose I would have," he replied, returning her smile. She eyed him curiously for a moment before producing a small, tattered, leather-bound volume from out of her pack and held it out to him. "Go ahead, take it. It's your Father's last journal."

"How—"

"I've had it for the past couple of years. The Queen, of all people, gave it to me before his Denerim estate was cleared out for the new Arl. I considered keeping it from you; simply because I didn't think you would accept it. The words may not give you peace, but perhaps it will allow you to better understand his motivations."

"I—thank you," he replied, unsure of what else he could say.

"You're most welcome, Nathaniel. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go wash the blood out of my hair before supper," she said as she stood.

"Nate."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's just Nate. That's what you used to call me after all, isn't it?" he murmured as he found himself stepping closer to her.

"Yes, I suppose I did at that," she replied carefully as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. His heart fluttered as he met her gaze, nearly drowning in their stormy depths. Maybe Delilah was right, he said to himself, perplexed by the very thought that despite everything, he could be even remotely interested in this woman.

"Very well, Nate it is. But do not think that you can get away with calling me 'Little Lexy'. I will feed you to the darkspawn if you even think about it."

He laughed at that, causing her eyebrows to jump in surprise.

"I wouldn't dare tempt your formidable temper, Commander," he teased.

"Alyx is fine…or Falcon if you prefer" she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Too much of that 'Commander' nonsense grates on my nerves after a time."

"Alyx then."

She nodded in approval before turning to head towards the inn. She stopped after a few paces to look back at him over her shoulder. "We're all meeting in the taproom for drinks later. You should join us, Nate."

Then with one last friendly smile, she stepped inside without waiting for his reply. Shaking his head he followed her, realizing too late that he never told her Delilah's message.

*Muse Tunes: "The Confession" by James Horner (Mask of Zorro OST); "Free Like You Make Me" by the Cary Brothers