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Bitter Taste [Complete]

Nathaniel Howe

Warden Commander of Ferelden
Canon Character
Noble
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
183
#1
((OOC: Haring 15, 9:34 - Grey Warden Compound - Cauthrien))

The knock came to the door like so many before. Nathaniel's response was no different. "Go away," he yelled, voice raw from drink and tears long spent.

Shuttered windows kept the concerned from looking in and the time of day unknown. By his best estimation, he figured he had been locked up in his office for more than a day. An empty bottle rolled upon the ground at his feet as he pushed up from the chair he'd placed before the pallet holding his wife. Only half a bottle of whiskey remained before he would need more. And more he would need. He had no intentions of leaving Fiona. Not yet.

With a stumbling step, he neared Fiona. A palm pressed into the pallet to balance him, he tipped back the bottle of whiskey and swallowed. The liquor had long stopped its burn. The same could not be said for his grief. No amount of whiskey seemed to lessen the bite. He drowned within his failure to her, failure to himself. She deserved so much more than he gave. His duty came first; Fiona came second.

His head tilted down, eyes soaking in her death mask. Other men wielded the knife, but Nathaniel, himself, might as well have struck the final blow. His lies, his deceits put her in that alley without guards. She feared his disappointment when she need not have. She was the single most important thing in his life. That could never disappoint.

The bottle slipped from his hand. Reflexes slowed by his whiskey consumption, Nathaniel barely managed to keep the bottle from tipping over and onto the floor. He was not able to stop whiskey from splashing out of the bottle and onto Fiona's dress. Frantic, he smoothed the liquid off the velvet. He could not stain her dress. Not now. It hardly mattered the dress was beyond ruined, her earlier injuries seeing to a good portion of the lower part of the gown covered in blood.

The knock came again, louder and with more force. His eyes slammed shut, trying to fight back the fresh bud of tears. The response was the same, though more plea than yell, "Go away."
 

Cauthrien

Warden-Constable of Ferelden
Staff member
Canon Character
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
362
#2
“Go away.”

The voice was raw with grief, blurred with drink, repeating the same words each time she'd knocked. Cauthrien let her hand drop, feeling the eyes on her. Matthias had arrived from the Free Marches three months ago, but he'd been a Warden for better than a decade, and he had not bothered to hide his surprise and disapproval upon learning that the Warden-Commander had not only a title, but a wife. To his credit, he'd kept his mouth largely shut and eyes and ears open to date, and Nathaniel had given him nothing to find fault with and much to sway him. The Grey Wardens of Ferelden were of necessity not as tightly regimented as the other, more populous branches. There was less formality in the command structure, more freedom granted to Wardens in terms of their personal lives...so long as the ground rules were followed.

Nathaniel hadn't forced a conscription since the debacle in Highever had netted them Lucian, but word of that act remained very much alive, and he had balanced out the conscription of an apostate then by turning over another that had been working in the kitchen at Vigil's Keep to the Chantry a few weeks ago. Matthias had relaxed considerably in recent weeks, and Cauthrien figured that any letters he sent back to the Free Marches were free of any censure that might be passed on to Weisshaupt.

This, though...

“Any news?” she asked of the man beside Matthias.

Joffrey shook his head. “Nothing,” he reported regretfully. The guards had been unable to identify or locate Fiona's killers, but thought it an attempt at robbery gone wrong, rather than an assassination. What she had been doing out without at least one guard in attendance was a question that Cauthrien would not give voice to. Nathaniel would be hammering himself enough with the query.

Joffrey cleared his throat, and she glanced back at him. “The sister from the Chantry was here earlier; she said that if the – if she is not prepared soon, the pyre will need to be held in Denerim.”

Cauthrien nodded her understanding. The preparations to keep a body from decay until the final pyre was lit could generally only be afforded by the nobility, and the custom of laying the deceased in state was not uncommon, but those preparations had to be undertaken soon after death to be successful. Much longer, and Fiona's body would be in no condition to be returned to Amaranthine.

It wasn't fair, but then, nothing about the situation was. Fiona should have been safe on a routine shopping excursion. Nathaniel should be free to grieve as he wished, but the news had already spread through Denerim like wildfire. She could keep prying eyes out of the compound, but she could not still wagging tongues or turn malicious hearts. Rumors would soon be flying about Warden-Commander Howe, shut up with the body of his murdered wife. He had his defenders here, but there was also no shortage of detractors, those who would be just as happy to feed off his misery like carrion birds.

Amaranthine would offer him the sanctuary to grieve unmolested, free of vicious rumor that might make its way to Weisshaupt, but first she had to get him there. She wished that Fiagi or Anders were in Denerim, but there was no one but her.

She pulled her keyring from her hip pouch and stared at it. As the commander of the Denerim compound, she had keys to access every room, including this one, but under normal circumstances, she would never even be considering it.

Circumstances were far from normal, however, so she sorted through the ring until she found the right one, inserted it into the lock and turned it.

“No one else is to enter,” she ordered as she opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her.
 

Nathaniel Howe

Warden Commander of Ferelden
Canon Character
Noble
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
183
#3
Nathaniel stumbled toward a corner of the room, back pressing against the wall as he sank to the floor. His long legs sprawled out before him. One hand dropped limply atop his lap as the other raised the whiskey bottle to his lips.

He had passed out twice already and hoped for a third. In those moments of black, he passed time without thought, without feeling. The pain was gone as was everything else.

He knew he could not stay in this office forever. That logic had not escaped his anguish and whiskey addled mind. He was simply not ready. To leave the office was to accept she was gone. To leave the office was to move on in a life he did not want to live without her at his side.

Just a little longer, he reasoned.

Fiona looked quite peaceful upon the pallet. There were many nights when nightmares and daily stresses made it impossible for Nathaniel to sleep. The noise in his head too loud to be easily silenced in sleep. He would lie in bed at her side and watch her as she slept. He could almost pretend this was one of those moments, that she was not dead but sleeping instead and any moment she might awaken and smile in the way she only did for him.

Almost.

He rocked his head back, beating it against the wall once before swallowing down another pull of whiskey.

His eyes were drawn from Fiona toward the door at the sound of a key clicking within the lock. The door opened and shut quickly, Cauthrien standing just inside the room.

Nathaniel remained in his shadowed corner upon the floor. "What part of go away was unclear," he rasped, an anger he had never used with her before suffusing his tone. "We do not wish to be disturbed."
 

Cauthrien

Warden-Constable of Ferelden
Staff member
Canon Character
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
362
#4
The room stank. Spilled whiskey, sweat, shit and piss from the unemptied chamber pot in the corner ... and the faint but unmistakable scent of early decomposition. She didn't look toward Fiona; she didn't want to see what death had done, the swelling of the abdomen as gasses bloated the belly, the eyes glazed over, the features gone pale and slack. From the corner of her eye, she could see the green velvet skirt stained black with dried blood, but her attention was focused on the wretched figure in the corner lowering a half empty bottle of whiskey, eyes reddened with grief and drink fixing on her.

“What part of go away was unclear,” he snarled at her. “We do not wish to be disturbed.”

The 'we' might have indicated a broken and deluded mind, but his eyes were hellishly aware, the words hurled with a bitter sarcasm. He knew she was dead, but every fiber of him raged against it, leaving him in an agony that Cauthrien had never seen. Never wanted to see.

“I wish I didn't have to,” she replied quietly, “but she needs to be prepared for the funeral, for the return to Amaranthine.” She knew better than to utter the word 'Chantry'; not now. “It's been more than a day now. You have to let her go.”
 

Nathaniel Howe

Warden Commander of Ferelden
Canon Character
Noble
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
183
#5
Cauthrien. Of course it would be her to disobey Nathaniel's order. The lack of surprise did nothing to lessen his anger, though. When she told him her days of following blindly were over, he never imagined this was how she would show the truth in her words.

“I wish I didn't have to,” Cauthrien said, voice quiet, “but she needs to be prepared for the funeral, for the return to Amaranthine. It's been more than a day now. You have to let her go.”

"I do not have to do anything of the kind." Nathaniel's first attempt to rise failed, legs giving way beneath his weight causing him to land flat upon his ass on the ground.

If she'd thought to appeal to him with talk of his duty, Nathaniel ended that prospect right there. "And don't.." The hand holding the whiskey raised as he uncoiled a finger from about the bottle's neck to point at her, "...start talking to me about my duty." He would hear none of that talk. Duty demanded so much of him but gave nothing back in return.

His second attempt to leave the floor met with more success. Rather than try to stand on his own, Nathaniel pressed his back into the wall and used it to leverage himself upward. "My duty got her killed." If Fiona knew the truth, perhaps she would not have gone off on her own. But he could never tell her the truth due to a rule of his own making. There were good reasons for the rule. If the world knew what made Grey Wardens so adept at fighting darkspawn...

Nathaniel felt every bit the monster as those the taint in his blood bound him to.

He snorted and stumbled toward Cauthrien taking a drink of the whiskey along the way. "She wanted a child and I did not. That is why she was off without her guards. Because of..." He gestured to himself, a bit of whiskey sloshing out of the bottle and onto his already stained shirt. "...me and what I could not give her. What I did not want to give her."
 

Cauthrien

Warden-Constable of Ferelden
Staff member
Canon Character
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
362
#6
"I do not have to do anything of the kind." Nathaniel tried to stand, but his legs wavered and folded, sending him back to the floor. Cauthrien winced but knew better than to try to assist him.

"And don't.." He stabbed at the air with a finger, the whiskey in the bottle sloshing with the movement, "...start talking to me about my duty." The last word was spat like a curse. He wedged his shoulders against the wall and forced himself upright with grim determination.

"My duty got her killed,” he snarled, stumbling forward and taking a sloppy drink from the bottle, bleary eyes burning at her. The words made no sense; Fiona had been killed in a robbery that had nothing to do with Nathaniel's station of either Arl or Warden-Commander. Was it simply the drink talking, or did he have information that might lead to her murderers?

Before she could ask, he went on. "She wanted a child and I did not. That is why she was off without her guards. Because of..." A wave of his hand sent whiskey sloshing up the neck of the bottle and onto his shirt. "...me and what I could not give her. What I did not want to give her."

Comprehension – of a sort – came, but it brought no easy answers with it. Early on in her career, when it had become apparent that romantic entanglements inevitably led to a conflict with the imperatives of duty, Cauthrien had eliminated the possibility by choosing duty, once and for all. She had never regretted it, but it did leave her with a decidedly limited perspective on Nathaniel's plight. That Fiona had wanted a child she knew, that Nathaniel had been unable to sire one was also known, but she had never discussed the matter with him. After the initial rumors that had swirled about Vigil's Keep, she had been careful to keep her behavior very clearly professional. Fiona had been no Celia Mac Tir, serene and gracious and sure of her husband's honor. She had been young, insecure, and the rumors had wounded her greatly.

Cauthrien had never wanted children – never wanted to be pregnant, more precisely. She understood Nathaniel's view, but if Fiona had wanted to adopt a child, what would the harm have been? She had no more business wading into those waters than a bull in a porcelain merchant's shop. Whether Fiona had left alone after an argument or for some other reason did not change the fact that she was dead and needed to be prepared for her funeral.

“The only duty you have right now is to her,” she told him. Reaching out, she took the bottle from his unsteady hand. Two steps took her to the chamber pot. She did not look inside as she upended the bottle to add the whiskey to its contents.
 

Nathaniel Howe

Warden Commander of Ferelden
Canon Character
Noble
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
183
#7
Nathaniel's demands went ignored. Cauthrien spoke the very word he bade her not. “The only duty you have right now is to her.” Without asking, she plucked the whiskey bottle from Nathaniel's grasp before he could stop her. His hand thrust out to reclaim his prized whiskey only to slash through empty air in return and send him to the ground unbalanced once more. Cauthrien was already on her way to the chamber pot to empty the remains of the bottle.

Anger, despair, too many emotions vied for dominance and Nathaniel simply slumped upon the ground and drew his knees to his chest. His head slumped, chin brushing the scuffed and dirty fabric upon his knees. "I'm drunk but I'm not daft," he murmured voice thick and graveled by the drink. "The Chantry sent you."

Fiona was as devout an Andrastian as Nathaniel had ever known. His mother was religious but nothing like Fiona. Each week Fiona took a trip to the Chantry in Amaranthine. She insisted they tithe the church and she volunteered as well. The Maker? Andraste? The things Nathaniel saw during his life time made him doubt the very existence of such a higher being at times, no more so than now. To take such a devoted servant? Was it her punishment or his?

The answer to that question felt all too obvious.

"This is all my fault." He rolled to the side onto his hands and knees. His right foot first and then his left, he swapped knee for foot and unsteadily rose from the ground. Two stumbling steps later, he stopped at the pallet and Fiona's body. Some women piled on makeup to give themselves the natural blush upon their cheeks Fiona possessed. That blush was gone, her skin a paled and cool grey in death.

His fingers coiled about the lifeless fingers of her hand. The rage surrendered to anguish and overwhelming guilt. He had a duty to her, Cauthrien said. Yes, Nathaniel had a duty to Fiona and ignored that pledge when he reconciled with her. "I should have never took her back. Howes cause nothing but death."
 

Cauthrien

Warden-Constable of Ferelden
Staff member
Canon Character
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
362
#8
She heard him hit the floor again, felt a twinge of reflexive guilt that she doggedly ignored. When she turned back, he had curled into a ball, his head on his knees. "I'm drunk but I'm not daft," he mumbled. "The Chantry sent you."

“I'm no more use for the Chantry than you do,” she replied. Which was to say that she wouldn't take a piss at their suggestion. She had seen nothing in her life to make her believe that the Maker existed, or gave a damn about this world if he did exist. The Chantry's teachings were at best misguided, at worst a lie used to control the masses. “I'm here because her body needs to be prepared for her funeral and the Chantry is the only place that can be done.”

“This is all my fault.” She watched him roll to hands and knees, drag himself back to his feet and stumble back to his wife's body, his fingers curling around hers. "I should have never took her back. Howes cause nothing but death."

“You are not your father,”
she told him, “and you are not to blame for her death. She was killed in a robbery that had nothing to do with who you are or who she was.” She had no idea what to say that might assuage his grief and guilt, couldn't in honesty tell him that she knew how he felt. Her longest relationship with a lover had lasted barely a month, and that had been fifteen years ago. The loss that he had suffered was one that she had quite deliberately avoided. “Setting her aside would not have protected her from this.” Nothing short of keeping her in a locked and guarded room would have kept her from all chance of harm, and Fiona had not been one who would have tolerated such protection.
 

Nathaniel Howe

Warden Commander of Ferelden
Canon Character
Noble
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
183
#9
“You are not your father,” Cauthrien said, “and you are not to blame for her death. She was killed in a robbery that had nothing to do with who you are or who she was. Setting her aside would not have protected her from this.”

Words.

Nothing Cauthrien said was false, but neither did Nathaniel fully believe her either. Guilt-laden doubts clawed at his thoughts sending him into an unending spin of what-ifs. If he had set her aside, she might have married Teagan or even the King. If he had been more convincing about wanting a child. The decision to walk into the alley was hers, but his actions, his decisions put Fiona there and no amount of logic Cauthrien tried to ascribe to Fiona's death could convince Nathaniel otherwise. Not now.

"She would not have been there if it was not for me," was all he offered in response, his anger deflated.

He released his hold on Fiona's hand and drew his fingers to cup his brow and rub at his temples. Cauthrien was right about one thing he could not reason away or deny. He could not stay in this room. That was the last of his whiskey she poured into the chamber pot and somehow he did not think she would permit anyone else to bring him more. Dimmed rage rekindled in an irritated simmer at having his hand forced so.

"I'll let you take her," he conceded with a weak sneer. If he was to take her to Amaranthine, she would need to be prepared.

Amaranthine.

He would need to tell Dougal and Aileen that he killed yet another of their children. The close of his eyes brought with it imbalance, blackness swirling behind his eyelids. Nathaniel pressed his hands into the pallet, steadying himself as to not fall upon the ground once again. There had been a reason he ordered he was not to be disturbed. Those times when he lost himself within the swell of a dark moment were not his proudest nor were the type of moments he wished others to witness.

He asked, voice quiet, "Are the vultures at the gate yet?" He did not have to hear the whispers to know what was being said. This was the price he paid for being Rendon Howe's son. That debt would never be paid in full no matter the good deeds Nathaniel completed. To some, he would always be a traitor's son and undeserving of mercy, kindness or understanding.
 

Cauthrien

Warden-Constable of Ferelden
Staff member
Canon Character
Grey Warden
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DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
362
#10
"She would not have been there if it was not for me," Nathaniel muttered, his rage collapsing into despair.

“Perhaps,” Cauthrien conceded, "but you did not put the knife into the hand of the one who killed her.” The words would not sway him. Not now, but perhaps in time, he would remember them.

He released his hold on Fiona's hand, rubbed his head and glanced toward the chamber pot. The bottle she'd emptied there appeared to have been the last one in the room.

“I'll let you take her,” he spat.

She nodded. “A ship sails for Amaranthine in two days,” she told him. “I've arranged transport for you both.”

He braced himself against the pallet, swaying slightly. “Are the vultures at the gate yet?”

“They are,” she said simply. No point in trying to hide what they both knew was true. “I can handle them. Take her home, Nathaniel.” He needed to be away from Denerim, away from prying eyes and wagging tongues and back in a place where he would be given the space to grieve privately.
 

Nathaniel Howe

Warden Commander of Ferelden
Canon Character
Noble
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
183
#11
“They are,” Cauthrien responded plainly. “I can handle them. Take her home, Nathaniel.”

Home.

Vigil’s Keep was filled with ghosts. Each walk about the Vigil brought a resurgence of recollections, both good and bad. There were the places he played as a boy with Thomas and Delilah. There were times he swore he could smell the sharp smell of his father’s cologne or hear his voice echoing against stone. Palms pushed against the pallet, and Nathaniel took two shambling steps backward away from Fiona’s body. More memories would crowd the halls of Vigil Keep now.

His eyes closed as he drew in a deep breath. The world began to spin and he thought he might tumble to the ground once again. Somehow, he managed to keep himself upright before he reopened his eyes to glance at the doorway. How many lingered outside in concern or with malice? To the new Grey Wardens, he was still a stranger. To the old… He could worry what Cauthrien thought of him later or what those in Amaranthine might think of him upon his return.

Cauthrien did her duty by interrupting his grief, but Nathaniel voiced no thanks. “I’ll..” The words caught in a throat too dry and thirsting for more whiskey. He let out a raspy cough and bent at the waist to place steadying hands upon his knees. Hair fell to obscure his face as he canted his head slightly toward Cauthrien. “…need someone to bring hot water for a bath and some food to my chambers.” He could only imagine the picture he painted in his drunken despair…or the smell.
 

Cauthrien

Warden-Constable of Ferelden
Staff member
Canon Character
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
Posts
362
#12
Nathaniel stepped away from the pallet, away from his wife's body; he swayed, closing his eyes, and Cauthrien resisted the urge to offer him a supporting hand. He would welcome it no more than he welcomed anything else she was doing.

He opened his eyes, haunted gaze turned to the doorway, no doubt thinking of those who waited beyond. “I'll..” His voice cracked and he coughed, bending forward and supporting himself with his hands braced on his knees. “…need someone to bring hot water for a bath and some food to my chambers.”

She nodded. “I'll see it done,” she promised him quietly, stepping past him and out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

“Send word to the Chantry that preparations may begin,” she instructed Matthias, who nodded and immediately turned to go. “Have a bath drawn in the Commander's quarters,” she told Joffrey, “and ask Tobias to send up some stew and bread, followed by a full meal. The rest of you, back to your duties.” After seeing them gone, she went to her own office, leaving the door ajar ever so slightly. He would not want her watching him, but if he fell, she would aid him whether he wished it or not. Sitting down at her desk, she pulled out parchment and quill and began composing a message to Anders.
 
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