#int; tobebrutal (nathaniel).

[thanflowers]

@tobebrutal (nathaniel) — starter call / accepting!

        “you...came back.” elspeth frowns deeply, a furrow of confusion forming between her brows. “i told you to take whatever you could carry and go. i thought that was very generous.” her jaw tenses, arms crossing over her chest. blue-green eyes trail past him, focusing instead on a point over his shoulder. it's hard to look at him without thinking of his father. “why would you return?”

[thanflowers]

        it doesn't take him nearly as long to scout ahead as she was hoping it would. sending him off on these little missions is—believe it or not—as much for his sake as it is for her own. she doesn't imagine he enjoys her company any more than she does his. it happens that he returns now as she's finishing adjusting her armor. she turns, looks him over, then her gaze casts back to fixing the strap on her arm.

        “good,” elspeth says tersely, bristling at his closeness and hating the way he says my lady as if it's a curse. then, like having a tooth pulled: “thank you, warden.” she turns to anders and oghren, giving them both a nod. “we head deeper into the woods. with any luck, the person attacking caravans will make themself known to us.” and if not, they'll start looking for clues around the wreckage. once they find it.

nathaniel's never been so encumbered with pride he's unable to do as she asks.. even when, what she asks for, feels mundane. to scout ahead. to track whatever'd left the most recent prints near camp. the little things that keep him busy, mind far disposed from the woman at his back and the implications of her shadow. but, sometimes...

pettiness is a howe family trait. inherited from both mother, and father, it feeds the shine in pale eyes once returned from his trek, path carved deliberately close to his commander, " your route is clear, my lady. "

@thanflowers ♡ s.c.

[thanflowers]

send ❤ to just. grab my muse and kiss the hell out of them. — accepting!

        it's another argument about nothing that's really about everything. this is the maddening pattern they've fallen into since @tobebrutal survived his joining: tense silence, most of the time, a space shared because they must and not because either of them wishes it so. this lasts only as long as it takes for one of them to say something that sets the other off, and then they are fighting again. she hates it. hates this. being angry is not how she wants to spend her days.

        but hackles rise along with their voices, and soon they're nearly nose-to-nose, too consumed in their bickering to notice how close they've become. it's in the pause for breath between snarls that they both seem to realize, eyes sharp and chests heaving. then suddenly his lips are upon hers, his kiss hot and hungry.

        for an instant she considers shoving him away, asking what he thinks he's doing. then all the rage seems to run right out of her, or perhaps it pools into a fire in the pit of her stomach. her fingers curl into his collar instead, pulling him closer as her teeth catch on his lower lip. she can feel a flush forming under her skin, everywhere. maker's breath, does she want this? no—yes—maybe. she can't decide. (and perhaps she's just desperate for some sensation other than her own profound loneliness.)

[thanflowers]

        you need me, he says, and elspeth makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a gag. not because it isn’t true; but rather, quite the opposite. she knows that the walls her her keep are woefully undermanned, and most of the guards currently there have been leant to the wardens by the throne. building up her own force to man vigil keep’s many walls will take time, and given what she’s recently discovered about the darkspawn getting smarter, she does not have an excess of time.

        and she cannot, in good conscience, turn away a willing recruit under these conditions. however nathaniel might have worked it out, the truth is that he is right. she needs more wardens. more bodies to fight the blight. and he’s offering up his own, even knowing the cost. this should be the ideal situation for her, compared to tricking young hopefuls into undergoing the joining without knowing they might die.

        “joining the grey wardens traditionally means foreswearing all past ties,” she says. she’s reached the point where she is trying to come up with any reason not to provide him this. “if you join us, and find that it doesn’t live up to your hopes of redemption, how am i to know you won’t abandon the cause?”

it's the reaction he expects , but nathaniel glowers regardless. he feels the corners of his lips pull towards a scowl.. feels the heat of anger beginning its broil in his belly. frustration never looked good on a howe and it will not look good now , either. so he abandons it. scoffs away the urge to lash out and , instead , replaces it with something firmer. something stern and unbothered by elspeth's declaration.

" and what life for me will come with a happy ending now ? " pariah. the son of a bastard traitor. murderer. usurper. there is no light at the end of the tunnel for a howe anymore. there's nothing to climb towards but another apology to another family because of a dead man he bears too much resemblance to. the shadow he can't escape.. " this isn't about what is and is not easy. coming back here , again , so that i may ask of you more than either of us truly wish for.. is not easy. " he's closer now. has craned enough to seek an eye contact that elicits little more than a frustrated twitch of his nose. " but i am good at what i do. "

for all the years of his mother's beratement.. all the time spent seeking his father's withering approval. one thing survived where their failures stack highest ; nathaniel had excelled. beneath the tutelage of another , he knew what needed done and how best to do it. had even managed to slip through the staunch securities of this keep.. had the grey warden's commander where a quick blade could do its worst.

but didn't.

" believe me when i say there are few things about this that have any claims to want , my lady. " more fighting. more killing. more death and wounds and the funeral pyres of friends. want scarcely deserved a place among the conversation. but need.. " there aren't enough men to guard your outer walls.. and even fewer patrol the grounds of the keep. i saw only two scouts on my way here. and , if i may be so bold to say.. you've not had a good night's sleep in over a year. " evidence in the dark rings around her eyes.. the sagging shoulders and the blanche that speaks of a pause she can't afford. " you need me. if for no other reason than to stand as one more body between yourself and the death you say will come regardless. "

[thanflowers]

        elspeth laughs, but there is no humor in it. neither is it cruel, exactly. if anything it sounds a little bit mad. a little bit hysterical. a laugh of disbelief that this is actually real and happening, not meant to do anything but relieve the nervous knot forming in her belly. it doesn't, though. she still feels it there, tight and heavy as she realizes this is, in fact, real, and he is truly making this request.

        “you don't want to be a warden,” she says quickly. and even though she knows she's not supposed to, she continues: “if the joining doesn't kill you, the taint will do it, or the darkspawn. it's not a good life. it doesn't come with a happy ending.” and she means that, though her reasons for saying so to nathaniel are hardly altruistic. she knows that if he joins the ferelden wardens, she will have to see him every day, and she doesn't know if her heart or her nerves could take it.

        she also struggles to see the wardens as a path to redemption. the blight and all its related responsibilities had been thrust upon her, and she continues to carry them now because there is no one else, and a cousland always does their duty. she wouldn't be here now if she felt she had any other choice.

        “why do you think this is going to somehow redeem your family name?” she asks, casting around in her mind for any more reasons why this is a bad idea. “why would you think i'd want you for a recruit?” she does not know how much he knows, if he's aware of how desperate their needs are with regard to fresh blood. “and what makes you think i owe you a path to redemption, anyway?”

pride was the downfall of many men. nathaniel had it. he nurtured it with care and sat it aside when the moment demanded so. it was set aside , now , too. when his eyes held hers steadier than she seemed to think he ought be able. accused him with her laughter of such , even now. for all her feigned bluster , he could see it , again. the little girl with freckled face and wide eyed wonder as he made an ' impossible ' shot against a political backdrop ill - fit for children. she had clapped , too. it'd almost been loud enough to drown out his mother's cold order to stand straighter. it'd almost been enough to cloak his father's unimpressed sneer. it was almost enough to make him turn around and leave.

but he doesn't.

" whatever my father did.. " for it was something to amass a small army to his doorstep , regardless nathaniel's skepticism over the details given , " there's no one left of the howe name to right his wrongs. " blood can't be unspilled and the dead reborn , but the sentiment , sincere and slept on for days , makes demands of its own. it begs his gaze to soften , hard steel turning careful grey as it searches for reactions. be them good or.. more expectedly , bad.

" there's no one , but me. " the free marches feel so long ago. vigil's keep was a plundered monument. painting put to the pyres beyond their gates.. what worth is left of a howe is debatable , but there was enough perceived in himself to raise his chin higher. straighten his back. nathaniel is the tight - jawed determination of a man prepared to fight for something , just not her life.

" make me a warden. " quiet conversations atop battlements amidst repair have betrayed to him her need for recruits.. and the dangers what came with it. " you knew my brother.. and my sister. they don't deserve to lay dead in the shadow of his choices. let me make it right. "

[thanflowers]

        the couslands had been careful with their children. much of the uglier side of ruling a teyrnir was hidden from them until they were old enough to understand the weight of making such choices. elspeth herself was perhaps coddled more than her elder brother, who would inherit the teyrnir one day. while fergus learned the ins and outs of ruling, elspeth learned how to run a castle. it wasn't until the blight struck that she really learned how heavy a decision could be, or just the weight of leading on one's shoulders. it was heavier than the ill-fitted armor she had to wear for the first half of her journey, by far.

        the armor she wears now fits perfectly, because it was made for her. all soft, supple leathers built for quick, quiet movements in a fight. yet the chest plate remains, the warden-commander's griffon emblazoned in cold metal. she doesn't love it for that which it represents, but it's kept her alive so far. in fact, she finds herself glad not to have changed out of it too quickly this night.

        she remembers thomas more than she remembers nathaniel; the boy was closer to her age in youth, easier to play with. though in her memory, thomas followed her around a bit more than she did him. whereas nathaniel had his studies and his training, thomas was was free to chase her around the grounds, dare her to climb the trees and wade into the river with her skirts hiked up.

        “you want—what?” elspeth snorts—almost a laugh and yet not quiet, though no less derisive in nature. “what could you possibly have to ask of me that would achieve such a thing?” she doesn't like it, the idea of the howes rising again. she has to remind herself that his father's actions are not his, however much he refuses to accept what rendon has done.

he was just a boy the first time he'd seen them. the bodies of thieves dragged up from the dungeons below the keep. at the time , nathaniel hadn't questioned why they'd died. if they'd deserved it. macabre fascination with their limp , sagging limbs and the bulged veins at their neck were as far as he'd wondered. now ? he knows what happened in those cells. had sat among the stains within them , not but four days ago. " no. i would say you are more equipped for gauging that. " it's what she wants to hear and , droll as it is , it is still given. " though.. i suppose i'll never truly know. you were the worthy executioner , your story is the only one i'll ever hear. "

finally , she turns to face him and , for the first time since their discolored reunion , he blanches. nathaniel falters in his steeled resistance to whatever feeble threads of reason continue to be tossed his way. she'd like that too much. watching him reach for scraps that would , undoubtedly , fray and unravel between his fingers. " you dare say too much , warden commander. " snapped back , it ekes out between his teeth , not bared , but only just. his father had always scoffed at it.. a little girl playing soldier. he'd not harbored like - minded sentiments , but the title is spat , soured , regardless. " as is your will. "

he doesn't hate her. had never disliked her. at the precipice of indifference , he'd amused that little girl with passing jokes and stolen sweet from the kitchen. to dig , however , he finds none of that. no anger. no apathy. what nathaniel unearths , there , with steadied hands and steadier gaze , is cold. bordering on callous , it names itself pity before admitting it nearer to the envy it is. knowing what he doesn't. lauding voices at every new corner feeding her the idea that this ? this keep ? was earned.

" what i want— " between words he paces silent. a course forward , cut precise. more sure of itself than the answer that comes , eventually, " is to fix my family's name. " return some delicate semblance of good to a lineage that , once , stood in high regard. " and you , my lady , are my path to doing so. "

[thanflowers]

        “is that meant to make me think more or less of you?” she wonders aloud, more thinking to herself than asking him, really. it doesn't change her feelings towards him at all, knowing that he did not mourn the man who gave the orders that slaughtered her entire family. perhaps it makes her pity all the sharper, all the more keen, that he didn't know rendon howe. “then you don't know what he was capable of, either, do you?” her eyes remain focused on the orange flames flickering on the hearth. part of her doesn't care if he tries to kill her. part of her wishes he would give her a reason.

        murder is a strong word, she wants to say. a word that disavows the justice it was meant to be. the justice it had failed to be, due to her own thirst for revenge. none of it felt particularly satisfying. even when the moment came where she knew he was finally dead, it never felt over. perhaps that's why it hurts to look at him now, with the shadow of his father in his features. the wound is still raw. still bleeding. it has not had any time yet to heal.

        she turns to face him again, her hands clasped behind her back. “what do you want, nathaniel?” she asks, earnestly. “i dare say you didn't come here to warn me of the faults in my defenses.” there is so little to be done about it yet. she simply doesn't have the numbers to keep a guard on every wall. “or did you truly break in here just to call me the villain again to my face?” she suspects that if he truly meant to harm her, he'd have done so already.

he'd shed no tears for his father when news had initially arrived. love was a brittle treasure in their home , cold as the walls and the floors and the people held within it. but.. he'd felt something. small and tenuous , but there. it was there , now , as he swallowed. it was there when she gave him her back and he'd resisted a flinch to move. what should be nameless or , perhaps , left only at vengeful , has instead complicated itself. a touch of fear. jealousy. anger. nathaniel has shaped himself with these things for months and , stood here , able to do something about it , he's frozen.

" if you think i mourn my father's passing , you're wrong. " a time for tears had came and went and dry cheeks , dry eyes , confess he'd shed none , if few. " i did not know the man you murdered any more than i know you. " though time and distance , fonder a heart expected to become , it has , instead , made strangers out of once familiar faces. weathered. aged. not all for the better , but taken just the same. elspeth was no exception. far displaced from a child with scuffed knees , a torn skirt , and dirt under her nails. who he'd watched his brother fawn over up until he'd forgotten what thomas looked like as well.

breaths remain steady , level where he's expected to bristle , no doubt. " i've told you why the sight of your banners in my family's halls makes my stomach turn. and this room.. did you know my mother once slept in that bed ? laid there , restless with her hatred ; the two of you would have gotten along. " it's unfair , what he's doing. in the light of hazy details , it's unfair to call her villainous. and it doesn't make him feel better to've done so , no. but he'll sooner apologize to the light for breaching it. stepped outward , into the shadow the spares him , " if i crossed the guard being spotted , others will , soon enough , as well. "

[thanflowers]

        her eyes focus back on nathaniel's face, shrouded though it is in darkness. she stands silhouetted by the fireplace behind her, her own shadow cast long across the room to reach him. she does not react to his sarcasm except the slightest quirk at the corner of her mouth, the barest curling of her lips upward. she used to think he was funny, when she was small and he barely a teenager. they have not seen much of one another since then, so she does not really know the man standing before her. cannot be sure if he is truly making threats or not.

        so she shrugs, gesturing to the blades at her hips. “you can try.” killing her is far more difficult these days than it used to be. “perhaps you will even succeed where your father woefully failed. twice.” it is not the kindest thing to say, but if anyone can stretch her to the limits of such, of course it would be nathaniel howe. “and perhaps you will even make it out of here alive, again, after doing so.” she blinks slowly, then dares to turn her back on him, looking into the fire, though still alert for any sign of movement behind her. just in case. “but it won't make you feel any better.” her shoulders drop slightly. she speaks from experience.

why indeed. it's a question he's chewed the length of for days. four , in fact. what would've been five if he'd not simmered in the stew of it all , untouched and unfettered. been left to unpleasant thoughts and a reconsideration. not for her judgement , expected and unrepentant. but a question. one that , perhaps , would be best left unasked , but sat a rancid thing at the back of his tongue nevertheless. it'd grown legs enough to force his own. made shadow his company and , suspiciously , without his bow drawn and a call for blood shouting , an old home was easily enough infiltrated. nathaniel lacked naivety enough to think this unintentional. a trap ? an invitation ? one was no less curious than the other.

" and how very generous it was , your ladyship. " biting sarcasm aside , there was truth to his words. and that , in and of itself , was nagging. one more slight against his name ; her pity. " maybe i've returned to kill you. " no daggers in hand. no poison uncorked. from where he idles , there , in a corner barely licked by fire light , nathaniel is a man pestered , but placid.