Back From The Dead
"Perhaps you will burn this letter unread. For that, I would not blame you. But I would not return to the Stone without saying this to you: I have seen what Bhelen is. And when I saw it, I knew I had been a fool. For only a fool would cut out his own heart and burn it for the sake of appearances. I never believed in your guilt. I allowed you to be exiled because I feared an inquiry into Trian's murder would taint our house with scandal in the eyes of the deshyrs and cost our family the throne.
But I have saved nothing by this sacrifice: I sent my only child into an uncertain exile. Know that whatever you do now, you bear all the honor and pride of House Aeducan."
The letter, worn from travel and sealed with the crest of House Aeducan, rested in Duran's trembling hands. Gorim, his steadfast second and dearest friend, had delivered it with solemn reverence.
It had been written by King Endrin himself—Duran's father—on his deathbed.
"I… I don't know what to say," Duran murmured, his voice barely audible. A heavy weight settled in his chest as he clutched the letter. His eyes drifted to the intricately wrought Aeducan shield that Gorim had also brought, its polished surface gleaming faintly in the soft morning light.
Turning back to his friend, Duran asked hesitantly, "Did he… did he say anything else?"
Gorim's usual stoic demeanor softened, his eyes tinged with sympathy. "Only that I was to deliver this letter and the shield to you, even if it were the last thing I ever did. Your father…" Gorim hesitated, as if the words themselves were painful to speak. "He had grown weary of words. Rumor has it he passed away just days later."
The joy of reuniting with Gorim—a joy Duran had not allowed himself to hope for—was now overshadowed by a profound grief. His father's last words weighed heavily on him, mingling regret with the faintest spark of validation.
Breaking the somber silence, Gorim began to recount his life after Duran's exile. He spoke of how he had settled in Denerim, becoming a trader to build a new life. There, amidst the bustling human city, he had met a human woman—a relationship that would have been scandalous by Orzammar's standards—who had given him a son.
"What a fool I was to think there was nothing to learn from surface dwellers!" Gorim admitted with a weary but genuine smile.
Duran, his lips curling into a sardonic grin, replied, "Oh, Gorim, how wrong we both were about that. Scandalous, indeed, to admit that the surface has given me far more than Orzammar ever did!"
With a wry chuckle, he added, "And speaking of which, where have my royal manners gone? Allow me to introduce you to my new companions."
As the conversation lightened, Duran regaled Gorim with tales of his adventures—the battles fought, the bonds forged, and the journey that had brought him to this moment. The vivid descriptions were punctuated by moments of laughter and camaraderie, a much-needed reprieve from the weight of the past.
When Duran finally paused, Gorim spoke, his voice steady but laced with emotion.
"I always suspected that if you were alive, your life would be anything but dull," Gorim said with a faint smile, his gaze drifting to the horizon where the first rays of sunlight illuminated Denerim's rooftops. After a moment of reflection, his expression grew more resolute. "I swore to stand by your side, always. So, my lord, what do you say? Will you allow me to reclaim my place as your second?"
The earnest plea caught Duran off guard. He studied Gorim for a long moment, the weight of his friend's words sinking in. "But you have a family now, a new life. Do you truly wish to leave it behind? My banishment from Orzammar… the erasure of my existence… all of it has ended your service to me."
Without a word, Gorim reached into his pocket and retrieved a small, crumpled drawing. It was unmistakably a child's handiwork, the lines wobbly but heartfelt. Gorim's expression softened as he held the drawing up to the light.
"I have already prepared my wife for this moment," he said quietly. "She knew that if the day ever came when I saw you again, I would return to your side. It pains me, yes, but it also fills me with honor and joy to stand with you once more, my lord—if you will have me."
Gorim's determined gaze met Duran's, leaving no room for doubt. After a pause, Duran extended his hand, his voice filled with conviction.
"It is my honor to have you, Gorim of House Saelac, reclaim your place at my side. Your family will be proud to know the purpose for which you fight alongside me."
The two dwarves clasped hands in a firm, unyielding grip, sealing their renewed bond. The moment carried the weight the past months and the promise of challenges ahead, but it also offered a glimmer of hope. Together, they would face whatever trials awaited, their alliance unbroken and their resolve stronger than ever.