Chapter Text
10 years ago
Delilah stared at her brother, not quite recognizing the normally confident ( know it all! ), straight-laced ( stuck up! ) young man before her, seeming so out of place. And here she’d tried to bring them to a tame tavern!
Elsa better be right that he wouldn’t snitch. She was pretty moony where he was concerned, but surely she didn’t want to get in trouble any more than Delilah did. Delilah’s ears were still curling from the last time Rendon had yelled at her.
Here at the Crown and The Lion, it was mostly well-behaved regulars, as an inn that catered to seasonal workers. A few folks were scattered throughout, laughing together in their small groups or eating alone in quiet contemplation. It was a well kept tavern, with comforting if frayed and faded banners and plenty of torches that seemed to flicker and dance with the very energy of the room. It was neither too noisy nor weighed down by a thick haze of smoke and stench. People seemed calm, friendly, and largely inclined to mind their own business. Which, Delilah noted with amusement, meant there was very little chance of brawls. She was sure Elsa was disappointed but both girls agreed it was better not to get Nathaniel’s knickers in a twist.
Yet as calm as it was, it was still more than enough to have Nathaniel on the back foot. He glanced around, looking uncertain of all things, which was just wrong. Nathaniel was the Perfect One, the oldest and Most Responsible. He always knew what to do. Why, Delilah was shocked he hadn’t walked straight up to the bartender to demand a thorough inspection of the state of his casks, or something.
Seeming discomforted by his sister’s scrutiny, Nathaniel cleared his throat. “So what uh…do you two normally do?”
Why had he wanted to come too, anyway?
He glanced again at Elsa, because of course he did. Elsa quickly met her eyes, but Delilah demurred, more than happy to let Elsa take the lead on this. She was the one who insisted Nathaniel would behave and it was her job to ensure he did.
Elsa turned back to Nathaniel and gave him a teasing grin and a wink, “I mean, you could try a commoner drink, if you think you could stomach it, Nate,” she breathed, fluttering her eyelashes theatrically.
As if she herself hadn’t been even more hesitant to try the ale a few months ago! Delilah gave her a bemused look, which the rogue brazenly ignored.
But Elsa’s teasing did the trick; Nathaniel’s spined straightened, eyes narrowed and lips twitching with mirth; the Cousland girl had absorbed his entire attention, as usual. And once again, Delilah caught herself wondering before squishing that thought.
It was so disappointing to have learned her dumb brother wasn’t interested in Elsa after all; Delilah had been certain they’d get married and have lots of babies. She’d always found it a little strange that someone as fun as Elsa could fall for someone as boring and blearrrrgh as her brother. Not that there was anything wrong with her brother - he made a point of being perfectly perfect in every way, obviously.
Still. Elsa was fun. And he was - well, Nathaniel.
But it didn’t matter, in the end. Elsa never read anyone wrong. She’d tried and Nathaniel had rejected her, the dope. Too stuck up for his own good, to realize how perfect Elsa was for him.
He was always softer when Elsa was around, after all. Sometimes he even smiled.
“Oh? You have a recommendation then, Elsa?”
Delilah’s attention snapped back to the moment as Elsa grinned wider, placing her chin on woven fingers. Oozing confidence like always, Delilah suppressed the twinge of jealousy; questions tended to make her turn into a stammering pile of goo.
“Awfully trusting of you, Nate, to put your fate in my hands like that.”
“I’ve tried your poisons and survived. Nobody here can make something more fierce,” he shot back.
Elsa snorted, glancing at Delilah. “You really don’t know your sister, do you?”
Delilah couldn’t help but smile at the praise, though when Nathaniel turned his hawk-like gaze on her, her gut sank and she tried to look as innocent as she could. Father would be so angry if he learned Delilah was learning so much about poisons, and Nathaniel would absolutely tattle, the snitch. His eyes narrowed, and didn’t seem taken in by her doe eyed innocence; curse it all. “Oh?”
Delilah looked to Elsa with a slight panic, who winced but quickly hid the expression, grinning once more. “Anyway, Nate, some of the drinks here are strong. I have some ideas. I’m always happy to carry you home when you pass out like a pup. I probably won’t shave your three beard whiskers, either!”
“Are you blind? I have more facial hair than that!” he retorted, protectively stroking his steadily growing beard. He kept that atrocious thing meticulously groomed in the style of their father. It looked terrible, but Nathaniel insisted Delilah didn’t understand trends. So good for him for now, and when he was inevitably roundly mocked to contrition, she’d be there with a smirk and a razor.
Elsa sighed dramatically, giving him a pitying look. “Nathaniel, you goose, nose hair doesn’t count.”
Nathaniel sputtered objections while Elsa smirked wider. Possessed by the spirit of mischief that drove her friend, Delilah found herself grinning as well, wanting to join in on the delightful romp of mocking her brother. “Don’t be silly, Elsa, that’s not from a goose. I’m sure he glued ferret fur on there.”
Elsa's laugh rang out infectiously. Nathaniel’s gaze shot back and forth between the two girls, He scowled, but his eyes were dancing with mirth.
“Better ferret fur than whatever’s going on with that tangled mess on your head. Did you roll out of a hay bale before coming here?”
“I-” Elsa began.
“Again?” Delilah agreed sweetly.
Elsa flipped them both off, and laughter spread between the three, steadily flowing like the tide coming in as the night progressed. Against all odds, Delilah’s prig of a brother seemed to be actually having fun, breaking the rules like this.
Hmmmm. Maybe he wasn’t here to snitch to their father.
…maybe he needed to escape, too.
Still, weird. This was Nathaniel! She knew he could be fun, certainly, it was just…at a tavern? With commoners? What happened to his precious pride? He was supposed to be the perfect oldest child who set a very Important Example for them all. Yet here he was, testing boundaries.
Apparently, there was more to him than she had thought.
Soon they called it a night and began the trek back to the estate. Nathaniel was a bit ahead of her and Elsa, taking his self-imposed duty of being the guardian Very Seriously. It gave Elsa the chance to sneak rueful piney glances at him, and Delilah felt her heart pang in sympathy.
Unfortunately for Elsa, Delilah had been fixing to burst the whole time, and this was the first chance she had to talk to Elsa out of her brother’s earshot. Elsa’s moping would just have to wait. “How’d you do it?” Delilah whispered.
Nathaniel gave no sign that he heard, though Elsa gave her a chiding look all the same. “Do what?”
Curse her evasiveness; there wasn’t time for these games, Nathaniel could rejoin them at any moment. “You know. Make him…make him actually like me.”
Did Nathaniel just stiffen? No, he was too far away, that had to be Delilah’s imagination. Besides, Elsa was watching him, too, and she didn’t seem concerned, smiling faintly as she looked back at Delilah. “Ah yes. Nathaniel . Everyone knows how much he dislikes his family.” Her voice dripped with so much sarcasm Delilah couldn’t not scowl even as Elsa grinned teasingly. “Really, ‘Lilah, you think he doesn’t like you?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. Part of him has to love me ‘cause he’s my brother.”
Elsa smiled. “Oh? Would you say the same about Thom?”
Delilah’s expression darkened. “Ugh. ‘Course you have to get the last word. Fine. You win that one. Thom’d throw me in a river if it meant getting his way - and if you ever try inviting him to this, I will make you go bald, I will!”
“I’d never!” Elsa protested immediately, though a hand went protectively to her precious locks - which, Delilah noted, had been patted to a semblance of smoothness at some point in the evening.
“Nathaniel isn’t Thom and I know he loves me but that doesn’t mean he likes me. I know I’m always annoying him! He’s constantly nagging me because, because, because of course I’m not important.”
Elsa gave an empathetic sigh, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in for a quick hug. “Aw ‘Lilah. That’s not true. You know that, right?” Each syllable was crisply pronounced, hovering on a touch loud. Delilah again shot a glance at her brother, but he still didn’t seem to be paying attention, checking alleyways very seriously. Besides, Elsa knew what she was doing, she was an amazing rogue. She constantly snuck Delilah ingredients from the stockroom right under her father’s nose! They were fine.
“Nathaniel loves you so dearly. He just…shows that love in a silly way. He keeps nitpicking you because he thinks it helps. Learned it from your da. Thinks he’s pushing people to get better, but someone just needs to box it in that boy’s ears that it doesn’t always help. That it can just make things worse , getting criticized all the time, being told nothing you do is ever good enough, and you’ll never measure up, and - oh. Oh. ”
“Elsa?” Her friend’s face was thunderstruck and she’d stopped walking forward. “What’s wrong?”
“I…nothing. I just realized I need to make some changes,” Elsa murmured, rueful. “Do you mind if I talk to your brother about this? I promise you he wants to show love. He’s just - he’s awkward at it.”
“Oh, no, don’t do that. I could never,” Delilah quickly asserted, mortified.
Elsa’s lips curved in a secretive smile. “I won’t tell him then. But I bet he’ll get better. Tonight was good for him, you know. And you’re allowed to push back! Just tell him he’s being a bullheaded jerk. How will people know they’re hurting you if you don’t tell them?”
Delilah jabbed a finger into Elsa’s shoulders. “Don’t give me that, you never told-”
“ Point taken!” Elsa hissed, eyes wild as she glanced at Nathaniel. “Now shush, would you? I think he’s coming back.”
Delilah allowed herself a smirk of victory, which Elsa rolled her eyes at but grinned ruefully. “Truly, though, Delilah,” she continued, her voice quieter than before. “You should hear how he speaks of you when you’re not around. Thinks the world of you. Give him a chance to show it, mm?”
“....I’ll think on it.”
One year ago,
Delilah,
Your father’s evil was not yours, and you have nothing to apologize for. I appreciate that etiquette requires you to offer condolences, but I am fine, and you need not concern yourself with my wellbeing. If you require something to do to alleviate your misplaced guilt, there are funds for the survivors of the Blight, or perhaps the Highever massacre. I’m sure there’s a way to anonymously donate, should you desire to do so. Now let the matter rest and please do not inquire me on this again.
On to more pressing matters. I regret to inform you that I have no more news than you on your elder brother’s whereabouts. He has made no effort to contact me, and his knight master expressed only confusion at his hasty disappearance, having left some of his affects behind, but clearly absconding under his own power. But it is early yet, and I have the resources of a kingdom, with agents working for my goals. Don’t fret, Delilah, I will surely find him quickly.
When I encouraged your mother to send him away, I’d hoped to spare him more of your father’s poisonous influence, as I tried with you the many times I asked you to come visit Highever. Freedom from Rendon did him a world of good, as I’m sure it is doing you. Let us hope he does not seek vengeance, for that would be a story with only tragedy for its conclusion.
I can’t impede Teryn Cousland’s request for your presence in Denerim, either. He is far more familiar with law than myself. As far as I’m aware, he’s simply correct on your legal obligations. Whatever you wish to do with Amaranthine, you must settle with him in person. It is concession enough that he’s asked you to travel to Denerim instead of Highever.
I think we both know you have no desire to travel there.
That said, you have little to fear. He is a forgiving sort, Delilah, and knows you were completely uninvolved in your father’s evil. You are in no danger from him. Your life is your own, now, so do as you wish. Should you ignore the summons, that is also your choice, though I imagine the consequences would be far more trouble for you down the line.
Sincerely,
Elspeth Cousland
Advisor to the throne of Ferelden, heiress-apparent to the Crown of Ferelden and Teyrnir of Highever
“Alright there, Lady Howe?” Seneschal Varel’s voice rescued her.
“I’m fine,” she lied, stowing the well-creased letter reluctantly and pausing for a moment to rip out the poisonous thread of anger, hearing that title. “And, it’s just Delilah,” she reminded him wearily.
“Of course, my lady.”
Delilah, heiress-apparent of Amaranthine, had come to Denerim. Not alone of course, she was being escorted by her father’s vassals.
No, that wasn’t right. Her father was dead, as was his chosen heir, thanks to Thomas’s fiancée .
Rendon Howe had no property, no vassals, no precious prestige to chase anymore. Delilah’s seneschal Varel and a company of soldiers were accompanying her. Because apparently, instead of actually defending Fereldans from the darkspawn stragglers, bandits, and agitated wildlife, their highest calling was to follow her, making sure her feetsies didn’t get too sore.
She was the preeminent claimant of Amaranthine. The stick that muddied the King and Queen’s desire to allow Teyrn Cousland’s claim of the province ( Canny move, Elspeth ). It hardly mattered that Delilah neither wanted nor acted as such, she still had to endure the sneers and pointed questions about the fitness of the Howe line to rule. Or worse, the “encouragement” to step up to the role from her blood relatives. She, after all, had the strongest claim by blood for the moment. And she was one of two Howe children who had seemingly nothing to do with her late Father’s betrayal.
Nathaniel had gone missing, fled from his knight master’s service. Thomas was dead, apparently by his fiancée’s hand. The next nearest relatives were her father’s cousins, and a pox on either of those two taking the reins. They hated the Couslands and particularly the newly ascended Heiress now, and spent their time whispering nothing but poisonous words about Elspeth, trying so hard to convince Delilah to join their cause. They would just sink them into a bitter feud Delilah was desperate to end here.
The Howe name was buried, as it should be. Why give the Couslands leave to spit on the ashes?
So it was time to report to her potential liege lord and Crown. Or leave room for those two to do it instead. She’d still tried to drag her feet, hoping the Couslands would simply step in and solve it without her input; she’d left that life behind, and had no desire to be dragged back into its politics.
No such luck, unfortunately. Teyrn Cousland had gently but firmly insisted she come to Denerim to settle the matter. A more dangerous man than she realized, if he was able to take Highever back from Elspeth so easily. Or was she ruling from the shadows?
Knowing her, probably.
And what did he really want with Delilah? It wouldn’t be a hard matter to claim their entire Arling in hand, with or without Deliah’s help. Did he truly think the Howes were capable of fighting right now? Did he want them to?
And most of all, she wondered if Elspeth had been the true force behind the Teyrn’s summons. The heiress had been cautious, so suspiciously cautious, in the few communications they exchanged. Delilah never knew where she stood. Or if she was wanted at all.
Delilah had no illusions this would go well, but hope carried her all the same. Well, that and a horse. Elspeth had once been a sister to her. But the time for believing that was past. She was not a foolish little girl anymore, clinging to Elspeth’s skirts, desperately trying to keep up on whatever wild adventure had struck the trickster’s fancy. Their lives had separated, now, and she’d best resolve herself to accept that this change was likely permanent.
Received by the new royal couple, King Alistair a former commoner clearly in over his head, while Queen Anora remained too fine a politician to show the exasperation Delilah could guess. It was all a rather stately affair. She was given a room she hated, decadent and covered in skulls and furs and teeth and other trophies. Some poor commoner was forced to risk his life to pad the quarters and impress whatever lordling would stay here.
What an odious game.
She laid back on the thick pelt of her bedding and stared at the ceiling, wanting this over with. Staring at the empty skulls of once great beasts that had died so pointlessly. Was she supposed to be impressed by their withered bones and hollow eyes?
Time marched forward, bringing her ever closer to her meeting with Elspeth. Nerves seized her so badly she voided her stomach as the hour approached, a naked display of cowardice. Of weakness. Dignity be dammed, she sat on the floor and wept. And with emotions finally purged, she felt empty. She cleaned her face, and prepared for her meeting, hoping the emotions would just stay gone.
The moment arrived. And there the Cousland was, in all her resplendent glory, a yellow and gold dress embroidered vibrantly with the combined sigils of the Cousland house and the Ferelden kingdom. Even her hair was different, pulled back and formally braided, a golden circlet set on her brow. Elspeth Cousland. Beautiful and shining like gold. Unapproachable, and cold to the touch.
“Greetings, Delilah Howe. I am glad to see you in good health.”
Lies.
It shouldn’t be this way.
Brown eyes stared at her, a pleasant face hiding a canny mind, probing her for weaknesses. Delilah had never had a head for etiquette rubbish, but Elsa had always taken to it so quickly. Rules she could bend to her will, and get her way as usual. She mumbled a reply nonetheless. Conversation was stilted, formal. And finally there was a gap. Elspeth had gently nudged her to speak her mind.
And like a fool, Delilah fell for her trap. “I should have come,” she whispered.
There was a long, stiff moment of pause. “You couldn’t have done anything,” Elspeth said tightly, flickers of emotion underneath her calm mask.
As always. Delilah felt savaged by that attack, and a strange defensiveness arose. "Well, they’re gone, now. Good riddance to those monsters. Though I wish mother hadn’t followed.” The words struck Elsa, and she could see the Cousland’s eyes seem to hollow even further. Guilt clawed at Delilah, words she wished she could take back. She had to play it calm, though - who would believe her, who would listen to her, if she got emotional again? “N-not that I blame you, of course. There was nothing else you could have done, either."
A spasm seared Elspeth's face. "You and I both know there was," the princess retorted with a controlled voice. "But I judged it better to do something than nothing. ”
Delilah flinched, feeling the judgment sink deep into her soul, burning her. She stared at Elspeth’s unwavering expression. Less a calm lake, now, and more a stone. Words surged at the alchemist’s throat, clawing to be released. Pain keeping them more tightly bound.
What was I supposed to do? I’m not brave and strong like you. I felt helpless .
What an unworthy argument. No, she wouldn’t sink to making that. Not to Elspeth of all people. Her sister. The one who once believed in her more than anyone else had, who shared her dreams for a better Ferelden. Elspeth had always encouraged and teased and coaxed her forward, to believe in herself, to step out of her shell and make decisions as if they mattered.
As if Delilah Howe had any weight at all in her own destiny.
But then, Elspeth had always been a touch blind to the Howes, hadn’t she? Cutting insights into their flaws, of course, but fundamentally believing they were good people. She’d agreed to be courted by Thomas, of all people, apparently swept off her feet in the end by his charms.
And look how well that had turned out.
“Rendon…could not have been spared,” the princess continued, voice calm, eyes searing. How uncomfortable, to have that canny gaze turned on her, with none of the warmth she was used to. It was as if Elspeth was seeing Delilah without the blinders for the first time, and selfishly, Delilah missed them. But, truly, wasn’t it better that those scales had been ripped from her eyes? That she saw Delilah for who she was?
A weak and worthless coward, who would never accomplish anything.
“I challenged him to a duel, yes. But it was a formality. He stood in the way of the Hero of Ferelden trying to stop a Blight. There could only be one end. I would offer condolences for his death, but I have none to give. Because in truth, even if he hadn’t stood in our way, I would have hunted him down and ended him ,” Elspeth hissed, eyes flaring.
Delilah took a step back, scared of that venom, deserved though she knew it was.
It didn’t make it any less alarming to see on the once-cheerful Elspeth’s face, though. Elspeth didn’t hate. Or so Delilah had once thought. When Elsa was still training with them, she’d spend time speaking to her father’s prisoners, convincing him to put them to use instead. To work for redemption, rather than rot. Murderers, thieves, and the hapless, she gave so many a second chance. Few had ever proved dark enough for Elsa to just give up on them.
But then, everyone had their breaking point.
“I see,” Delilah said faintly, the only words she could manage.
The heiress hesitated, calmly folding her hands behind her back. “There’s no doubt I murdered your brother. His threat was removed the moment he thought himself in control. He was never a match for me. Yes, I could have simply knocked him out. Let him stand trial for his crimes, let anyone else he’d wounded have a say in his fate. But I did not.” She tilted her head, inquisitive, brown eyes boring into Delilah. “Do you require an apology for that? Do you hate me now?"
"Of course not," Delilah insisted, and knew with bone-deep certainty she wasn't believed. Her heart clenched, seeing the fear in Elspeth's eyes.
Elspeth viewed Delilah as a threat. Just another tainted Howe, an explosive flask about to fall and shatter in her court.
That didn’t bode well. What would the heiress do? What couldn’t she do?
She felt the strings fall around her, as was ever Elspeth’s way. Delilah knew had many a hook that a clever mind like Elspeth could exploit. Elspeth had always been good at convincing others into following her plans, maneuvering people as she saw fit.
Supposedly for their best interests, if she cared for them. In spite of them, if not.
The fear in Elspeth’s eyes left little doubt where Delilah fell, now. How had it come to this? How had Delilah become a threat to her sister?
Foolish question, really, unworthy to be asked even in the privacy of her mind. Her father and brother proved more monstrous than Delilah had ever known. Betrayers of the worst kind. They’d savaged Elspeth, and she learned her lessons, well and deeply.
She should know better, now. Why trust a Howe ?
She couldn’t fault Elspeth, in this, not really. She was a legend, helping to claw the country back from the brink of annihilation. There were songs about her heroics in the Siege of Denerim, of the army she’d cobbled together, leading them in impossible defense against an unstoppable hoard. Too many and too thorough to have been just lies spread by the rogue’s hand.
Elspeth was a hero, from a family of heroes. And Delilah was a coward, from a family of traitors.
Elsa apparently wanted to restore the Howes, if in a controlled manner. She’d trusted Thomas, after all, even let him court her. Believed him capable of change. That he - the Howes - might be tamed and collared, seeing the errors of their ways and allowed to partake in court once more, so long as she held their leash. That was what Elsa preferred. The fate she clearly wanted for Delilah now.
Because the Howe family had proven themselves ever so fit to rule anything.
The thought horrified Deliliah. Let Elspeth cast whatever weaves she may - but the Howe name was broken, and Delilah intended to keep it that way. She wanted nothing to do with her family’s power - and the strings that came with it. But Elsa would not suffer her to continue on as a possible dagger at her back. Delilah knew she needed to prove to the heiress she was no threat.
Delilah excused herself, mind whirling. She had already made two mistakes. She couldn't afford a third.
Time for her final card. She prayed it would be enough to salvage anything.
The next day
A steady voice, clear and sure. "I, Delilah Howe, scion of the late Rendon Howe and heir-presumptive, do hereby relinquish my claim to the Arling of Amaranthine. I cede it in whole to Teyrn Cousland, in partial reparation of the heinous crimes committed by my family onto his. It shall be his to distribute and administer as he sees fit. I forswear any inheritance due to me by law through my father…"
Words continued, formal fluff and declarations, leaving no wiggle room for any nobles to try and maneuver, to have hopes of using her as a puppet or claiming she was deceived. It was done and dusted; Delilah had handed the whole of Amaranthine to Teyrn Fergus Cousland, witnessed and accepted by the King and Queen.
He received it with due gravitas, eyes showing a kindness she told herself she didn’t want. Damn that relief winding around her heart. What was she, a pup needing a pat on the head? Unbidden, her eyes sought out Elspeth's. See me give up my power. You have nothing to fear from me, she willed the heiress.
The heiress’s face was a calm mask, the formality and publicity of the proceedings allowing little else. But Delilah knew she wasn't mistaking the disappointment in her once-sister's eyes.
The third mistake had sunk in, and that realization was a bitter thing.
Once more, you choose to do nothing.
Every scrap of faith Elspeth had ever invested in her was worthless. There was no coming back from this, Delilah realized. Their lives were to be separated now, their grief too raw. She knew she had wounded too deeply, both in action, and inaction.
Very well then. Enough pretense. This was not a pain she could revisit. Not when she wanted to start a new life, finally free of the ever oppressive presence of her father. She would move on, and grow past her scars.
They would both be happier this way. Truly.
Delilah Howe, 12th of Solis, Dragon 31
“More letters?” Nathaniel asked. As she snatched the letters from him with undue haste, he raised an eyebrow. “Something you don’t want me to see?” he accurately guessed, eyes narrowing. Of course a potential threat to her would get her mope of a brother to perk up, for the first time in weeks.
“I doubt they’re addressed to you, brother dear,” Delilah pointed out primly. “You’re still hiding.”
“If you need me to leave-”
She bopped his head with her letter stack, and though he gave her a mildly wounded look, it was nothing less than that melodrama demanded. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m thrilled you’re here.”
“But if I’m a burden-”
“My own brother is so desperate to make himself useful that this house has been in better cleanliness and repair than its seen in months,” she retorted dryly, fixing him with a steely gaze. “Trust me, you’re no burden. But also: you’re my brother, and I insist you stay with me for as long as you need. But if you’re so eager to get away from me, I’m happy to leave you here when Albert and I leave for Helma’s. Just don’t expect to escape me entirely, brother-dear.”
He sighed. “I’d certainly like to meet my future niece or nephew, but even I know I can’t loom as a shadow over your life forever. A question best answered later, I think. So. Not that I don’t appreciate the attempts at a distraction, but, any interesting letters come in?”
Delilah reluctantly glanced over the letters, knowing she lacked the poker face to fool her brother. And sure enough, in that same dreaded handwriting, a letter from Theodore Howe, her late father’s cousin and wretched man.
It was another in a long series of careful, cruel letters. Nothing she could tell Nathaniel about - he’d just mock her, that something so meaningless as words were burdening her quite so. He’d never get so caught up in such foolishness - if he saw a problem, he’d find the solution, and wonder why she was so pathetic that she couldn’t do it herself.
But the letters drove a dagger in her all the same.
How is your husband’s cough, by the way? I do hope it clears up, though Maker knows commoners tend to be of weaker stock-
(Yes, yes, her every move was being watched, as if she didn’t know that already. )
Richard is a loyal servant of mine, Delilah, do stop fussing like a silly hen. He spends time near your house for your protection. He’d never lift a finger to hurt you, not without my say-so-
(Because who didn’t love a looming man always glaring at her from just around the corner, seemingly slathering at the mouth to attack should she ever show a moment of weakness.)
I see. I hadn’t quite expected you to sink to enlisting a Cousland to hunt down my man, of all things. I suppose that’s the way of women, though, always seeking out greater power to protect them.
(Wait - but - she hadn’t asked that! How far did Elsa’s reach spread? And what did this mean, did she still care or not?! )
If you’re so cavalier with your own servant’s lives, my dear little “cousin”, it defies comprehension that you lay the blame with me for their disappearance. Did you expect another result when you sent them to a lion’s den?
(Poor Drake, he never should have trusted Delilah. Delilah shouldn’t be trusted with anything. Certainly not people’s lives.)
Wouldn’t want anything to happen to your child-
(If that monster thought she’d let a flicker of his SHADOW fall on her child…)
Your stubbornness does you no credit, you foolish child. In the end you will see things my way. Your bear in your veins a legacy you are unworthy of, and I will not allow our bloodline to languish in the mud, tainted by your foolish mistakes.
A tremor in her fingertips and Nathaniel’s eyes sharpened, glancing at her. “Problems?”
Delilah’s mind whirled, trying to come up with anything, a lie to push him off the hunt. She’d been fortunate, the last two letters had arrived when Nathaniel was out. She wasn’t prepared for him to catch her like this. “It’s….” she trailed off, floundering.
There was, of course, a tactic she knew wouldn’t fail. Elspeth Cousland, master distracter even when she wasn’t present. Mentioning her name was always enough to send him spiraling. It had taken some coaxing, but Delilah had eventually learned the truth behind Nathaniel’s confrontation with the heiress, a story that had wrenched her heart in two.
How close her brother had come, to throwing himself on the spymaster’s blade?
Marcella would pay for that one, that witch. But for now, she was content to let that be Nathaniel’s problem.
Theodore would hopefully remain her problem, and hers alone. After all, if she couldn’t handle a few nasty letters , what did that even say about her?
Nathaniel and Elspeth would be so disappointed.
She hesitated a moment longer, knowing how potent a defense it would be to continue talking about the heiress but - she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring out the ultimate distraction. Not if she didn’t want her brother to sink into a week long gloom again, not when he was barely out the last time he remembered how much she despised him now.
She shook her head, smacking him with the stack of letters. “Stop your fussing, Nathaniel,” she chided. “I’ve got enough on my plate without shooing you out of my way. You worry about your problems, and I’ll worry about mine. This is nothing I can’t handle, you hen.”
He gave her a suspicious look, but to her relief, subsided, returning to his moping instead. Delilah tried not to sigh.
She would endure this. She had to. And once her child was born and her family could be hidden away safely, she’d make Theodore pay for the hell he’d put her through.
Then, maybe Elspeth would acknowledge her.
Delilah Howe, 16th of Nubulis, Dragon 32 (Present Day)
Delilah took a calming sip of tea, inhaling the aroma. Waning afternoon light streamed through the weathered shutters of her cottage windows, in a moment she’d stolen to herself. An island of calm amidst all this insanity.
So many balls at play. A chaotic dance she could no longer keep up with.
Timmy had been given his orders, and was off like a shot. Hopefully he wouldn’t be anywhere near Elsa when she learned the truth: it had been his fault she’d been kidnapped.
Foolish, exuberant child, so convinced he was protecting Delilah, by selling out the woman who’d made Delilah stiffen in fear. Smart enough to not make any obvious actions while they were anywhere near him. Dumb enough to think his plans were a good idea.
Delilah could have told her. She hadn't been certain what, exactly, Timmy had been plotting, and now that she knew - well, she was rather kicking herself for that one. She doubted even Timmy had realized how much of a nest of a blackpowder keg he'd thrown his sharper into. But Delilah was filled to capacity with regrets and had room for no more. At the time, she wasn’t about to put the young dumbass in Elsa’s crosshairs, not when Delilah couldn’t be sure Elsa wasn’t as twitchy as ever. Who knows what revenge she might take?
These damn willful idiots kept leaving her precious few paths forward.
Timmy wanted toss a warning shot Elsa's way. Nathaniel wanted to protect everyone and everything that fell within his shadow. And Elsa wanted to fix every problem she ever found in the world. All three of them were going to follow their natures, and it was up to Delilah to thread the needle where no one actually did lasting harm to the other.
She couldn’t tell Elsa, or Elsa would inevitably, invariably , learn who was behind her sudden problems. She couldn’t tell Nathaniel directly, or he’d be even worse. Elsa wanted to run off on her own and fix things as usual - fine, not like Delilah could ever stop that one. Elsa also wanted to leave Nathaniel behind , and this, she took issue with. Of course she'd pretended otherwise at the time; once Elsa got a Plan in her head, she was determined to see it through, and Delilah wasn't about to make herself seem an Obstacle in the noble's sights. She'd just have to seem to go along, then work against her. Carefully.
Of course she’d stolen the letter, she had to! Elsa was a master of persuasion and even before knowing what it contained, Delilah knew Elsa had a chance of succeeding. Of throwing herself into the clutches of another Howe who wanted her blood again. Of giving that horrid Theodore a chance to show just how wretched her father’s poisonous little cabal truly was. Elsa could be hurt, if she didn't have someone watching her back. Whatever words she might have written, Nathaniel couldn’t be allowed to see them.
And once Delilah actually read the letter, she was doubly annoyed. Elsa knew better than anyone that the best way to freeze Nathaniel in place was to convince him he'd hurt her. "If you follow me, you'll hurt me."
Maker, if it hadn't been for Timmy, if Delilah hadn't stolen that letter and refused to give it back, Nathaniel might spend another week moping and pining, waiting for her to return. Waiting for the chance to scoop her into his arms and tell her the truth.
That Elsa and Nathaniel were both the biggest dorks that had ever lived and obviously they were both in love!
What a waste. Delilah was never certain what the story would be between these two - at times Elsa really had seemed to have moved on, taking other lovers and forgetting to have the saddest glint in her eyes whenever Delilah mentioned her brothers name. Delilah was never certain where her brother stood, not until he'd confessed the other night. She'd suspected, certainly, but Elsa had always been the only one who could get that dork to open up and show just the slightest hint of vulnerability.
And after all that. Years of silly pining, Elsa had tried to confess through a letter , of all things!
Poor form, Elsa. Truly. How dare she deny Delilah the satisfaction of a proper conclusion to that drawn out story?
Delilah was certainly in a disadvantaged position - she was grateful for this child, she was, but Maker what a mess he was bringing with him. She was, unfortunately, unable to take much direct part herself. But she’d finally carved out what she needed. Timmy, Elsa, Nathaniel, all protected in their various ways. Elsa had no idea who had sold her out. Nathaniel had gone to ensure she was safe. Nathaniel knowing the stakes.
And maybe, as a special treat, Elsa would finally trip up. Thinking Nathaniel knew already, she’d let the truth slip.
And they would finally have an honest-to-the-Maker conversation.
And Delilah was going to make her repeat every damn word of that conversation.
She took a sip of her tea. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but, well, she’d long since given up trying for perfect. Trying to save everything was for fools, anyhow. Delilah might not have the keen brilliance of Nathaniel or the insightful flair of Elsa, but she had more common sense then the two of them put together, on that front.
She was Delilah Howe. She would do what she needed to survive, and carve out what corner of happiness she could. And those who came for her family and loved ones would rue the day they tried.