She was dead.
Natalie Mcbeef, once her mentor, Sworn-Sister, friend and confidant; the miqo'te who then turned torturer, executioner, and became the one responsible for so much pain and suffering…
She had bled to death on a ship.
When Coatleque had delivered the news to the paladin, Roen did not quite know how to react. Her first instinct was to insist that despite what she was involved in her time of death, Natalie should still receive the proper rites of a burial as an honored Sultansworn. Those were her first words. She had then walked away from Ser Crofte, numb on the inside.
But since then, the longer Roen pondered upon Natalie’s life--the woman she had become towards the end and the words they had exchanged in their last encounter, the more bitter she became. Why was that her first response? After all that the Miqo’te had done, why was preserving Natalie’s honor and memory her first reaction?
Roen stared at the medallion of Nald’Thal in her hand, the one that Natalie had left for her. Her eyes studied the scales engraved within the metal, before her fingers closed down upon it. She instead regarded the view of the bay from her perch on Anchor Yard. The sun was setting into the ocean, lending a fiery hue to the clouds above.
"Are you glad that she is dead?"
Roen turned her head to the voice behind her to see Nero watching her. Of course he had already heard the news. "Should I not be? I should be dancing with joy on her grave, for all the things that she had done."
The smuggler's expression did not change. He just shrugged. "That is up to you to decide. I, for one, am only regretful because she deserved far more suffering."
His words did not surprise her. Of course Nero would want Natalie punished. He knew her only as Daegsatz’s executioner and a Sultansworn dog for the Monetarists. He knew not the woman Natalie was before all this. Suddenly the metal pendant felt a little heavier in her grip.
"Nald'Thal's medallion, she left me." She looked down at her hand again. She had nearly thrown the cursed thing toward the bay at least half a dozen times now. And yet it still remained in her hand. "To remind me that everything has two sides. ...As if there were two sides to the woman she had become."
"In that, you and I are in agreement."
Her indignation simmered. "Does she think that I would try and…understand what became of her in her last days?"
"I am under the impression that she did not think much of anything. Such was her way,†Nero said coldly.
"Impatient. Single minded. Ruthless. Without compassion. Foolish." Each of her words were sharply said, nearly spat out. "Foolish above all. Thinking that there was always a justifiable cause in her mind, for all the mistakes that she had made."
"I have never heard you spew such a low opinion of someone before.†Nero crossed his arms in study of her. “It's…refreshing."
"I should hate her."
"But?"
Roen stared out over the bay, her eyes fixed on that distant horizon. "There should not be a but. Because that would make me a fool."
“You are too good of a person to not have such regrets about her character, Roen,†Nero said quietly.
“Do not justify any sadness that I…that I should not have. You have no idea what she put me through." A rueful chuckle was forced out. "Just call me a fool and tell me to forget her. Rather than stand here and wonder why I still mourn her death."
"You don't mourn who she was. You mourn who she could have been." He stepped up behind her. "If she had waited. If she had given some thought. If she had considered. If she had reached out."
"I loved her once. Like a sister." Roen sighed, her voice losing some of its venom. "Before she turned into someone I did not recognize.â€
"I’ve said before, she and I are a lot alike. In another life, we might have been friends." Nero observed. "It is unfortunate that it was not this one."
Roen gave him a sidelong glance over her shoulder, her head half turned. "In this life, she had killed. And so have you. You likely would have killed each other."
"It would have been a pleasure for me to kill her." Nero was matter-of-fact in his tone. There was no restraint, no stiffness, no doubt.
Roen shook her head, turning her gaze towards the sea again. "Is it wrong that I am relieved it never came to be?"
"If we had fought, who would you have supported?"
She bowed her head. "I would have tried to stop you both, even though I knew neither of you would have ceased."
"And you might have died in the crossfire. That might have opened our eyes. Or perhaps it wouldn't."
Roen kept her back to him, her arms crossed as she hugged herself tight. "Is that where we are headed? Down the road for more violence, to kill or be killed?" Sadness finally emerged in her lowered tone and sagging shoulders. "I know she made mistakes. She killed Daegsatz. She brought a bomb. Fool of a woman! I knew she had to be stopped. But in the end, she died doing everything and anything she thought was necessary for what she believed was a justifiable cause."
"You realize, of course, that that is a very likely outcome for myself as well." Nero’s voice had become quieter. "Conflict in this world is not brought about by evil people, but by good people who believe they are doing evil things for the right reasons."
Roen hated that his words rang true, because regret and dread then began to root themselves from within. Natalie’s death was a cruel, sharp blade that tore through her dreams and hopes, and brought to bear the thought that the Miqo'te’s end could be a harbinger to his. They had both compared themselves to each other, in how they were not so different in their relentlessness. The paladin had loved the Sultansworn like family once, and now she struggled to even recall those memories. "Will I again wish for hatred in my heart to ease the pain of your passing?" she asked quietly.
The smuggler said nothing, merely wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her against him, his head leaning lightly upon hers. "That would be merciful," he murmured. "But life is usually anything but."
Her head remained bowed, but she shook it just slightly. "I should hate her. A part of me…perhaps I do. But I hate her for dying. For never allowing the possibility for us to…to..." Her hands were tight fists pressed to his forearm. "Why did it have to turn out this way?"
"I suppose only the Twelve know why we mortals insist on fighting,†he whispered by her ear.
Roen frowned deeper. "Why must you walk the same path that she did?"
"Because if I didn't…I believe I would become something much worse."
She glanced over her shoulder, turning her cheek slightly. "I do not want to hate you. Nor mourn your death. If I truly believed that is the path you were on, and there was no other recourse..." She paused. "Tell me there is one."
"I cannot," he breathed, resting his chin along her left jawline, his cheek meeting hers as if to keep her gaze from him. "To turn away from my path would mean rendering all of the sacrifices thus far meaningless…and I cannot do that. Those deaths had to have meant something."
A sharp exhale was followed by the turn of her head, as if to withdraw from that touch. "What am I to do, Nero," she whispered. "I have stood by your side. I have…trusted my heart, despite all you have done so far. And now…now you tell me you walk the same path as the woman who I am struggling to forgive even in death."
"Do what you feel you must…for the path will not grow any easier. There will be little respite from the storm." Nero’s voice lowered, almost forlornly.
She felt her heart sinking. “Is there not a part of you that want a recourse?"
"Whether I want a recourse is not is irrelevant…this is the only way to change things with any measure of certainty."
"It does matter! It should matter! Your fate is not decided! Your life is not forfeit to be a sacrifice. Lives lost does not gain justification with more lives lost!" She stiffened in his embrace. "Your wants. Your life. Your hopes. They should mean something. If Natalie had held the same hopes, she may not have ended up as she did. She may not have done the things she did."
Roen exhaled in regret. "She could have…just reached out to me. Something. Anything. Rather than rush head first into something because she believed it was the only way."
"My life..." he murmured, slowly releasing his clasp around her waist and stepping back. "What is the measure of a life's worth?"
She turned to face him, unclasping her arms. It was as if she was holding herself together. Her expression was now filled with sorrow, the stoic cold control she had held on to earlier had completely fallen away. "I do not know, Nero. But soon as it is lost, so is all the potential it had with it." She canted her head. "Are you afraid of it being worth anything less than saving all of Ul'dah?"
He stiffened, slowly curling and uncurling his hands. "No," he said. "This is not, and has never been about me, or my life."
She felt her chest tighten. Of course it was not. If it was a selfish thing, a matter of pride, she would not have been drawn to it so. "It is about all the lives you have lost and taken, is it not?" Her grey eyes were steady on him. "You hold your life as payment for them.â€
"That is the least I can give. The price can never be high enough. But a redeemed Ul'dah…that may be enough."
Roen slowly bowed her gaze as she nodded. "I will help you. As I said I would." Her expression and tone were muted; she could not bear the thought of him coming to harm, much less offering his life to this cause at the end of it all.
"But you promised,†an emphatic whisper suddenly rose. "Do not forget your promise." Her eyes locked onto him, imploringly. "That you will try to be better. And that you will let me save you. That the end does not have to be what you foresee, that I can find a recourse even if you do not fathom one. Do not lose faith in that. Do not give me reasons to try and fill my heart with hatred for you."
Nero nodded slowly, although he no longer met her eyes. He turned and walked away without another word.
“Never falter,†were Natalie’s final words left in her will for her former apprentice. Roen looked down to her hand and opened her fingers to look upon Nald’Thal’s scales once more. There are two faces to all things.
The paladin stood at the Anchor Yard, looking in silence to where Nero had exited. The earnest and compassionate man who had her trust and heart, but also a ruthless revolutionary who had already ordered the deaths of many to achieve his goals.
When the balance tipped for Nero, she wondered what would be left on the scales.
Natalie Mcbeef, once her mentor, Sworn-Sister, friend and confidant; the miqo'te who then turned torturer, executioner, and became the one responsible for so much pain and suffering…
She had bled to death on a ship.
When Coatleque had delivered the news to the paladin, Roen did not quite know how to react. Her first instinct was to insist that despite what she was involved in her time of death, Natalie should still receive the proper rites of a burial as an honored Sultansworn. Those were her first words. She had then walked away from Ser Crofte, numb on the inside.
But since then, the longer Roen pondered upon Natalie’s life--the woman she had become towards the end and the words they had exchanged in their last encounter, the more bitter she became. Why was that her first response? After all that the Miqo’te had done, why was preserving Natalie’s honor and memory her first reaction?
Roen stared at the medallion of Nald’Thal in her hand, the one that Natalie had left for her. Her eyes studied the scales engraved within the metal, before her fingers closed down upon it. She instead regarded the view of the bay from her perch on Anchor Yard. The sun was setting into the ocean, lending a fiery hue to the clouds above.
"Are you glad that she is dead?"
Roen turned her head to the voice behind her to see Nero watching her. Of course he had already heard the news. "Should I not be? I should be dancing with joy on her grave, for all the things that she had done."
The smuggler's expression did not change. He just shrugged. "That is up to you to decide. I, for one, am only regretful because she deserved far more suffering."
His words did not surprise her. Of course Nero would want Natalie punished. He knew her only as Daegsatz’s executioner and a Sultansworn dog for the Monetarists. He knew not the woman Natalie was before all this. Suddenly the metal pendant felt a little heavier in her grip.
"Nald'Thal's medallion, she left me." She looked down at her hand again. She had nearly thrown the cursed thing toward the bay at least half a dozen times now. And yet it still remained in her hand. "To remind me that everything has two sides. ...As if there were two sides to the woman she had become."
"In that, you and I are in agreement."
Her indignation simmered. "Does she think that I would try and…understand what became of her in her last days?"
"I am under the impression that she did not think much of anything. Such was her way,†Nero said coldly.
"Impatient. Single minded. Ruthless. Without compassion. Foolish." Each of her words were sharply said, nearly spat out. "Foolish above all. Thinking that there was always a justifiable cause in her mind, for all the mistakes that she had made."
"I have never heard you spew such a low opinion of someone before.†Nero crossed his arms in study of her. “It's…refreshing."
"I should hate her."
"But?"
Roen stared out over the bay, her eyes fixed on that distant horizon. "There should not be a but. Because that would make me a fool."
“You are too good of a person to not have such regrets about her character, Roen,†Nero said quietly.
“Do not justify any sadness that I…that I should not have. You have no idea what she put me through." A rueful chuckle was forced out. "Just call me a fool and tell me to forget her. Rather than stand here and wonder why I still mourn her death."
"You don't mourn who she was. You mourn who she could have been." He stepped up behind her. "If she had waited. If she had given some thought. If she had considered. If she had reached out."
"I loved her once. Like a sister." Roen sighed, her voice losing some of its venom. "Before she turned into someone I did not recognize.â€
"I’ve said before, she and I are a lot alike. In another life, we might have been friends." Nero observed. "It is unfortunate that it was not this one."
Roen gave him a sidelong glance over her shoulder, her head half turned. "In this life, she had killed. And so have you. You likely would have killed each other."
"It would have been a pleasure for me to kill her." Nero was matter-of-fact in his tone. There was no restraint, no stiffness, no doubt.
Roen shook her head, turning her gaze towards the sea again. "Is it wrong that I am relieved it never came to be?"
"If we had fought, who would you have supported?"
She bowed her head. "I would have tried to stop you both, even though I knew neither of you would have ceased."
"And you might have died in the crossfire. That might have opened our eyes. Or perhaps it wouldn't."
Roen kept her back to him, her arms crossed as she hugged herself tight. "Is that where we are headed? Down the road for more violence, to kill or be killed?" Sadness finally emerged in her lowered tone and sagging shoulders. "I know she made mistakes. She killed Daegsatz. She brought a bomb. Fool of a woman! I knew she had to be stopped. But in the end, she died doing everything and anything she thought was necessary for what she believed was a justifiable cause."
"You realize, of course, that that is a very likely outcome for myself as well." Nero’s voice had become quieter. "Conflict in this world is not brought about by evil people, but by good people who believe they are doing evil things for the right reasons."
Roen hated that his words rang true, because regret and dread then began to root themselves from within. Natalie’s death was a cruel, sharp blade that tore through her dreams and hopes, and brought to bear the thought that the Miqo'te’s end could be a harbinger to his. They had both compared themselves to each other, in how they were not so different in their relentlessness. The paladin had loved the Sultansworn like family once, and now she struggled to even recall those memories. "Will I again wish for hatred in my heart to ease the pain of your passing?" she asked quietly.
The smuggler said nothing, merely wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her against him, his head leaning lightly upon hers. "That would be merciful," he murmured. "But life is usually anything but."
Her head remained bowed, but she shook it just slightly. "I should hate her. A part of me…perhaps I do. But I hate her for dying. For never allowing the possibility for us to…to..." Her hands were tight fists pressed to his forearm. "Why did it have to turn out this way?"
"I suppose only the Twelve know why we mortals insist on fighting,†he whispered by her ear.
Roen frowned deeper. "Why must you walk the same path that she did?"
"Because if I didn't…I believe I would become something much worse."
She glanced over her shoulder, turning her cheek slightly. "I do not want to hate you. Nor mourn your death. If I truly believed that is the path you were on, and there was no other recourse..." She paused. "Tell me there is one."
"I cannot," he breathed, resting his chin along her left jawline, his cheek meeting hers as if to keep her gaze from him. "To turn away from my path would mean rendering all of the sacrifices thus far meaningless…and I cannot do that. Those deaths had to have meant something."
A sharp exhale was followed by the turn of her head, as if to withdraw from that touch. "What am I to do, Nero," she whispered. "I have stood by your side. I have…trusted my heart, despite all you have done so far. And now…now you tell me you walk the same path as the woman who I am struggling to forgive even in death."
"Do what you feel you must…for the path will not grow any easier. There will be little respite from the storm." Nero’s voice lowered, almost forlornly.
She felt her heart sinking. “Is there not a part of you that want a recourse?"
"Whether I want a recourse is not is irrelevant…this is the only way to change things with any measure of certainty."
"It does matter! It should matter! Your fate is not decided! Your life is not forfeit to be a sacrifice. Lives lost does not gain justification with more lives lost!" She stiffened in his embrace. "Your wants. Your life. Your hopes. They should mean something. If Natalie had held the same hopes, she may not have ended up as she did. She may not have done the things she did."
Roen exhaled in regret. "She could have…just reached out to me. Something. Anything. Rather than rush head first into something because she believed it was the only way."
"My life..." he murmured, slowly releasing his clasp around her waist and stepping back. "What is the measure of a life's worth?"
She turned to face him, unclasping her arms. It was as if she was holding herself together. Her expression was now filled with sorrow, the stoic cold control she had held on to earlier had completely fallen away. "I do not know, Nero. But soon as it is lost, so is all the potential it had with it." She canted her head. "Are you afraid of it being worth anything less than saving all of Ul'dah?"
He stiffened, slowly curling and uncurling his hands. "No," he said. "This is not, and has never been about me, or my life."
She felt her chest tighten. Of course it was not. If it was a selfish thing, a matter of pride, she would not have been drawn to it so. "It is about all the lives you have lost and taken, is it not?" Her grey eyes were steady on him. "You hold your life as payment for them.â€
"That is the least I can give. The price can never be high enough. But a redeemed Ul'dah…that may be enough."
Roen slowly bowed her gaze as she nodded. "I will help you. As I said I would." Her expression and tone were muted; she could not bear the thought of him coming to harm, much less offering his life to this cause at the end of it all.
"But you promised,†an emphatic whisper suddenly rose. "Do not forget your promise." Her eyes locked onto him, imploringly. "That you will try to be better. And that you will let me save you. That the end does not have to be what you foresee, that I can find a recourse even if you do not fathom one. Do not lose faith in that. Do not give me reasons to try and fill my heart with hatred for you."
Nero nodded slowly, although he no longer met her eyes. He turned and walked away without another word.
“Never falter,†were Natalie’s final words left in her will for her former apprentice. Roen looked down to her hand and opened her fingers to look upon Nald’Thal’s scales once more. There are two faces to all things.
The paladin stood at the Anchor Yard, looking in silence to where Nero had exited. The earnest and compassionate man who had her trust and heart, but also a ruthless revolutionary who had already ordered the deaths of many to achieve his goals.
When the balance tipped for Nero, she wondered what would be left on the scales.
