The Aftermath

Redemption

It seemed that exasperation was the way of life here in Amaranthine.

Fjara groaned as she followed Mel and Anders under the canopy of trees, rubbing her temples. A line of darkspawn corpses lay in the wake of the three Wardens. Anders and Mel seemed to be happily sharing lewd jokes about pie. A riveting conversation for sure, too bad Fjara was so focused on blocking it out.

The mage just reminded her too much of Alistair. Same puppy dog eyes and witty sense of humor, except slightly sharper than her ex lover. He was a fine Warden and Fjara was certain that they would have been fast friends if not for her past. She just couldn't bring herself to speak to him for more than the occasional "look out!" or "excuse me." It was rather juvenile and Fjara hated herself for it but... She couldn't look at that damn mage without thinking about Alistair.

"Bah, another small town. Don't mind me. I'm just gonna cut my ears off." Mel hissed as she yanked her hood up and over her messy head of chopped, shoulder length blond hair. Fjara wasn't sure that it would make much of a difference, especially with how short the elf was.

Glancing up, Fjara noted the short walls around the little hamlet. She couldn't remember the name of the settlement off the top of her head - Although she was certain it started with a "K." It was quiet and Fjara couldn't see any signs of life besides some rats scurrying about. Must have been deserted.

Anders chuckled and shrugged. "I don't think that'll be necessary, no one's here." He wove his fingers together behind his head as they walked, happy go lucky as always. Mel grunted and let her hood fall back down, rolling her shoulders back. That woman was always ready for a damn fight.

Yawning, Fjara slowly moved to the front of the group in case there were wolves or any other manner of beast. Warrior first, rogue second, mage last. It probably would have been smart to bring Oghren but Mel and Anders would have never shut up about his stench. There was enough infighting as is and Fjara could use a break from the constant headaches.

As they passed the walls to the hamlet each Warden kept their eyes peeled and ears open. Deserted buildings were a haven for darkspawn to hide away and grow in. Fjara considered just burn-

"Don't attack, I'm not here to cause trouble. I want to talk."

Fjara spun in the direction of the familiar voice, eyes narrowed with suspicion. They laid upon an armored Nathanial Howe, his hands up in a placating gesture. Hand on the pommel of her family sword, Fjara stepped forward. "Howe. What are you doing here?" With cloudy eyes, she encircled him, making sure to scan the entire area in the case that there might be anyone else and this be a setup. Mel and Anders spread out to the sides, finding good vantage points to watch Fjara's flanks.

"You... You set me free, with my family's heirlooms. Even after what I said I was planning on doing." He stepped closer, meeting Fjara's eyes. "I want to know why."

Fjara averted her gaze, biting back any angry responses that bubbled up her throat. After a few moments, she relaxed and let her shoulders fall. "You are not your father. I will not hold you responsible for his deeds." Sheathing her shield, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the ground.

Nathaniel stayed quiet for a few seconds, seeming to think. "I see..." He took a step closer, eyes locked on hers. "Let me join you. Make me a Grey Warden."

Eyes flicking up to meet Howe's, Fjara couldn't hide her confusion as her brows knitted together. "What? I... Why would you want that?"

"When you let me go I realized that the Wardens couldn't be as bad as I had suspected," He sighed, another step closer. "I have nowhere to go. I fully expected to die in that cell - Maybe I even wanted to - But you let me go." Holding his hands up in an almost pleading manner, he bent his knee and knelt before Fjara. "Make me a Warden. Let me try. Please." For the first time since seeing him... He was showing emotion. Not hiding behind his mask of stoicism.

This was sincere.

Mel was suddenly at Fjara's side, examining the Howe with her critical silver eyes. "It took four Orlesian Wardens to subdue him, did it not? I'd say he would be able to handle it. Why not?"

Sighing, Fjara looked off to the side. She knew Mel had a point. The damn elf always had a point. Yet the idea still stirred a sense of anger in her. It hit far too close to home, reminding her of when she'd Conscripted Loghain.

Eyes hard and cold, she kneeled in front of Nathaniel, placing a stern hand on his shoulder. "I will give you one chance. Follow us to the Wending Wood and fight by our sides. If you prove useful then I will see to your Joining myself." She gripped his shoulder harshly, searching his eyes for an indication of something - Anything. Nathaniel only nodded however, his eyes not showing any sign of what he was thinking. The wall was back up.

He stood up with Fjara, a sense of determination surrounding him. "I will not fail you."

"In your future, I'm sensing a knife in the back. Just sayiiing." Anders chuckled, eying up Nathaniel, rather flirtatiously too.

"Oh, hush shemlen. I've got an eye for this.~" Mel giggled, and Fjara swore the blind would have winked then if she still had both eyes.

Nathaniel gave a quirk of his lips to Fjara, bowing his head slightly. "Nothing to fear."