Chapter 5: A Conversation Between A Howe and A Cousland

Soft voices echoed in the background, bringing Hadrian to consciousness for what he counted as the fifth time.

He was tired of all this sleeping and waking bouts; this time, he hoped, he would be able to stay awake for a whole conversation instead of falling asleep in the middle of it.

Nate was with him again and so was his sister, the pale and willowy Delilah, who sat close to him, along with his mother as well. Eleanor was wiping her son's forehead with a dampened cloth, concern in her eyes.

"Hadrian? Pup?"

Even his own mother would call him pup in front of other people.

It was bad enough for his father to have started it! Whatever protests he had died in a groan when he tried getting up and his mother's hands pushed him back down gently, but firmly.

"He does look better than before. Thank the Maker Ariala was still here," his mother said, placing the cloth next to a small bowl of water on the tableside.

She looked haggard, as did Nate and Fergus, although he had no idea why Nate would have stayed with him.

However, she bore her vigilance none too well, unlike the two youthful boys. Her eyes had dark circles around them and her face was unusually pale, even for her. The hair hung over her shoulders in ragged strands, no longer fitted in tight buns. There were even more grey hairs present among her dark brown strands but Hadrian did not want to point that out. It was bad enough to be called pup by his mother in front of everyone, especially the two Howes. He certainly did not want to be smacked across the head for his comment on her appearances.

"Ariala?…" his voice was a little bit scratchy but not as hoarse as it had been several days before. His mother offered him another cup of water and Hadrian realized too late that it wasn't water he was drinking but the awful health poultice. Yes, Ariala certainly has been here. No one else can give that stuff around without getting hurt. The bitterness cut through his daze and he heard a cheeky comment on how ugly his face gets when consuming that liquid. The bitter sensation was gradually replaced by a dull ache and the pain was kept at a distance.

"See, that stuff is just horrid to take in," Fergus quipped and he received a disapproving scowl for it from his mother. She leaned forward to Hadrian and felt his temperature with the back of her hand. A tongue clucked and she pulled the blankets up; they had previously fallen around his torso in his bouts of delirium and fever earlier in the night although Hadrian didn't' remember.

"Your father will be coming in shortly. He had to break up a confrontation between guards this morning. One of them received a black eye for his troubles."

Just as she finished speaking, though, the sound of a door was heard in other wing of the spacious room of the Infirmairy and Fergus' eyes brightened at the sight of his father approaching them in quiet footsteps, so as not to disturb Hadrian. His efforts, unwarranted as they were, were gratefully received by other patients in the wing. He pushed open a door that led to a private room in which Hadrian had been occupying for the past week since his untimely arrival.

"It's alright, sweetheart, he's already awake," Eleanor said in a hushed tone.

Bryce stopped by his injured son's bed and he knelt on one knee. He gave Hadrian a very odd expression; the youth had a feeling that he and his father were going to have a private discussion soon. True to his words, his father turned to the others, saying, "I need a moment with him, please."

He gave no reason why; he didn't have to since he was head of the Castle. So it wasn't surprising that the two Howes left without question, followed by Fergus and his mother. His mother regarded him coolly but she left without saying a word, leaving a son and a father alone.

"Father, why did you send everybody away? I'm awake this time," Hadrian pointed out in a respectful tone.

"Son, I need to tell you something, something I should have told you before the Initiation Ceremony."

Hadrian waited, his hands fidgeting with the woolen blanket that covered his body. The elder Cousland took a deep breath and the younger Cousland noticed the weariness on his father's face, the slumped shoulders, and the grey features previously absent. What could it be that had his father so distraught in telling him?

"I told Fergus this but it wasn't until several months after you were born. Do you remember the story of Edourd Elmric, our great ancestor? Your mother used to read it to you when you were a young boy."

There was a nod and Bryce took the seat his mother had previously occupied. Settling himself comfortably, he took Hadrian's hands in his and proceeded:

"In your fits, you mentioned a name, do you remember?"

Bryce received a negative affirmation.

"It was Zarieth. You called his name out several times while you had fever in the nights. He must have seen you at the Clearing. Tell me, son, did you drink the water? It's important that you tell me."

"Yes, father. I thought it-"

"it was just a normal pond, correct?" His father interrupted him. "It's not. That pond…it's not tainted in the sense of the darkspawn taint. But it's different."

"Darkspawn taint? You mean those!"

Hadrian started to panic. He didn't heed his father's last words for all he could think of was that word. Darkspawn. Curse of the Maker who wanted to punish the arrogant mages that invaded his seat of Heaven. Was he going to die? Or worse, would he become like them? His body trembled at the thought but a hand took his chin in a firm grasp and he was forced to look at a weathered face, full of lines and worry colouring his eyes.

"This is why I placed a sentence of death on whoever goes near the Clearing. There have been reports of missing persons in the past 30 years. Luckily, with that warning I put out, there's been no missing persons so far. You remember the story of the Clearing, where Edourd saved the Blue Wolf and was given a boon in return. Well, that boon is only given to the eldest of our family. In Fergus' case, Zarieth did not accept him but he accepted you. I still don't understand why but I'm sure the Maker has a reason for this. In any case, according to legend, Edourd was slain in that very spot where he saved the Blue Wolf and from his blood, the pond came into existence.

Zarieth warned me that whoever comes near the Clearing ultimately loses his life for it is sacred territory. If someone manages to survive entering that, however, the water is poisonous to any man, even for us. Only Edourd's direct line can pass into the Clearing but they are still forbidden to drink the waters."

"So am I going to die, pappa?"

Bryce noticed that Hadrian used his younger and more affectionate term instead of the formal 'father.' His son used it when he was littler. As he grew older though, propriety took a strong hold of the boy and Eleanor probably schooled him in the ways of the court afterwards. The last thing we need, she had once said to him, is for him to be taken advantage due to his height and age.

"Ariala hasn't said anything to me except the usual instructions of an injury such as yours: plenty of rest and fluids. However, I am uncertain in how this will affect you. None of our family has ever drunk the waters. Don't worry though. I am told that if anyone took that precious liquid into their bodies, they would pass on into the Fade immediately."

"So what can I do, pappa?"

"Just live like you've been doing, pup."

A hand petted his head and his father rose up from his seat. Again, there was that odd, preoccupied look on his father's face. The hand that ran through his hair traveled to his shoulder and gave him a firm squeeze.

"Just get some rest, son."

Hadrian watched his father stride out of his private room and he stayed up for a long time, thinking over what his father had told him. Sleep was going to be long in coming and when it sneaked up on him, he dreamed of wolves and the Darkspawn hounding him at every turn.

-o0o-

It wasn't until later the next day that he was finally released from the white prison of his convalescence. Ariala gave him some restrictions and the major but most debilitating one was that he couldn't train for at least a month. It's to allow your ribs to heal properly. Magic is all well and good but your body still needs time to rest and recover. If you overdo it, then not even healing magic can help you. That's what she told him and as much as he hated her advice, he wasn't stupid enough to ignore it. Mages, feared and respected throughout Thedas, were well educated in all manner of subjects, healing most especially.

"I see that Ariala finally let you out," a voice rumbled softly, a tone of amusement colouring the statement. Hadrian was a very good boy but he made a horrible patient. He loathed taking health poultices and would deliberately spit them out when nobody was looking. The person talking to him lounged against his bedroom door and there was that trademark smirk again.

"Nate," Hadrian replied, his eyebrows quirking at the presence of the Howe.

Nate pushed off the wall he was leaning against, his leather armour creaking at the movements. A bow was slung across his shoulders, with a quiver of arrows hanging off the broad shoulders of the boy, no, young man, Hadrian corrected himself. Seeing that Hadrian was 15 years old, that would make Nate 17.

"Did you come back from a hunt?" Hadrian asked of the Howe, absently opening his door to his bedroom and letting the Howe in. He was sorely tempted to jump unto his bed of satin silks and downy covers and pillows. The ribs though wouldn't like that and so he pushed it off to another time. Instead, he gingerly walked towards and sat on it, still reveling in the feel of the smooth blankets pressing against his hands. That feels so good, better than those hospital sheets…

Nate took it upon himself to take off his weapons and place them at the door. There was an unspoken rule throughout the nobles' houses that any visitor in a private bedroom was required to leave weapons at the door. Of course, not everyone obeys the rules and assassinations came about in the subtlest ways. He took a chair that was in juxtaposition to the Cousland's queen-sized bed and laid back, his arms behind his head.

"Yes, both of our fathers took me and Fergus hunting. They said we have to keep our hunting skills sharp in case there's a war or whatever."

"War? What's going on?" Hadrian hadn't heard any mentions of a war. There were local disputes happening nationwide, but not an open civil war.

"Nothing's going on," Nate replied, still reclining in his chair, his eyes closed. "Just that father's acting in his usual way, being paranoid and all."

"sometimes your father acts too paranoid," Hadrian spoke honestly.

He wasn't afraid of Rendon Howe and he certainly wasn't afraid of his best friend. Honesty was a valued attribute shared between the two friends and it acted as a glue to their friendship. If they couldn't be honest with each other, then really, what was the point of having a friend, a person who could point out your faults and your best asset.

This time, Hadrian may have taken it too far and he forgot that Nate worshipped his dad. Nate's back straightened up and he leaned forward, the chair snapping into position. Nate had never hit him out of anger but the cold glare he was giving to the young Cousland clearly told Hadrian to back off. Hadrian didn't apologize but he didn't continue either. The Howe took his silence as an apology and returned to reclining in the chair again, the legs threatening to buckle underneath his weight.

"Delilah wants to see you," Nate said randomly.

"Oh, umm, that's nice. Why isn't she here then?"

The Howe didn't answer him immediately; he sat forward, causing the chair to snap again into position, albeit with less force than previously. Howe's eyes stared at him and the room seemed to grow hotter with each passing second spent being scrutinized by the Howe.

"You don't like her," Nate told Hadrian in a steadfast manner. There was no malice in the tone, but Hadrian knew he had to tread lightly around the Howe when he was like this, intense, intimidating, and just scary-looking.

However, his body liked the Howe when he got this and he wished that he had his heavy chainmail on, to hide his growing erection. The young boy shifted uncomfortably, hoping that the Howe wouldn't take note of this. Being a rogue, Nathaniel observed everything, coolly and calculating. He certainly didn't miss the tell-tale tent and the Howe gave him that smirk again, the one that said I know everything about you and you can't hide from me type of smirk.

The one smirk he would always gift Hadrian with.

"Just what is it you want?" Hadrian huffed impatiently. He was tired of playing these kinds of games with the Howe. It was bad enough to do it at the King's court, when he and his famly were invited for a special occasion like the Maker's Day and Andraste's Passover, a day that celebrated her death. He hated politics but thanks to his mother's insistent lessons on propriety and insulting someone without resulting in a physical assault made him very aware of games other people play.

"You're grumpy today,"

"Well, I just escaped from that hellish place and here I was hoping for some peace and quiet."

Nate snorted at the last statement. Hadrian definitely was in a bad mood but he figured it was due to the week of being able to do nothing.

"Why don't you like my sister. She's pretty enough. Your mother has desperately been trying to get you and Delilah together."

"She doesn't know..." Hadrian paused. How could he say that he never had an interest in girls, especially to a stoic Howe. Nate was probably straight as an arrow. Very straight.

Nate gave him that intense glare again and the Howe moved a lot closer to him, a lot closer, right into his personal space. Hadrian swallowed a gulp and he fumbled for the words, distracted by brown eyes that focused on him and him only.

"Know what?" A whisper and Hadrian just realized that Nate's face was mere inches away. His pink lips were alluring, their fullness begging to be kissed. Hadrian always known that Nate was handsome and girls swarmed over him constantly, even some of the girls at his home, elven and human. He didn't realize just how handsome he was until he got a full look at him. That nose, so particular of the Howes, the pointy chin and the high cheekbones. They fitted perfectly together on light skin that was paler than his. He could almost see his reflection in the Howe's dark eyes and Hadrian had to swallow another gulp. Unable to keep the stare, he had to look away but Nate didn't let him. He clearly wanted his question answered.

"I...uhh..."

"You can tell your best friend, right? We've known each other since being born, practically speaking."

"Look, just...I...can't..."

"can't what?"

Nate got even impossibly closer and Hadrian could have sworn that if he moved, he would be kissing his friend. Move! Move and get away! He'll hate you for it.

Further thought abruptly halted when a soft pair of lips pressed again his own and Hadrian stiffened, arms numb at his side. Did he move forward to kiss Nate? Or was it Nate that initiated it? Nate drew back, taking Hadrian's stiffness as an answer to his action. He stood up suddenly, backing the chair into the table.

"I'm sorry. I was mistaken, please forgive me," Nate apologized and, before Hadrian could say anything, made for a hasty exit, the door slamming behind him.

A/N: To be fair to future reviewers, I'm only counting votes on the poll from those who left reviews for the story; this restriction will start today. This shows me that you actually care about how the story is going. Anyhoo, with that said, can you review please? And vote too? Hint: the poll is displayed on my profile.