Returning Home ((On the Shadow's side, solo.))

[Kura]

Arcon was tired and saddle sore. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when his legs felt the desire to fall off quite so strongly. The pounding rain was not helping the situation in the least, he had been forced to drop his ward against the water a few leagues back. Looking through the pleats of rain to his fellow travel worn dreadlord, no, he corrected himself, not a fellow yet. But soon… he could feel it. Soon the Great Lord of the Dark would embrace him, and cleanse him of the taint, and he would channel pure Saidin. There wasn’t anything that Arcon dreamed of more, except perhaps, what he was about to begin. Despite weeks of hard riding, a sadistic smile spread over his thin lips. I am coming old man…

 

He had spent years, ever since he was an Acolyte, plotting of how he would take his house from his father, and now almost seven years later, that dream was coming to fruition. Still, he would have to play his cards perfectly. After all, Arcon had inherited his suspicions.  For the first time in days, he opened his mouth to speak to his escort, a fellow he had known since his early days at the Fortress. Thom Malard looked at him and threw his trademarked smile. “Now remember boy, you promised me a very specific book from your father’s library. You wouldn’t go back on an old man who helped you find your first book on tactics, would you?” Despite himself, Arcon chuckled. Not even his ruthless heart could find a place for hatred in regards to this man. “I keep my promises, but you have to keep yours. I will need plenty of time alone to spin my web, old friend.”

 

Thom merely nodded, as the pulled up to the city of Arcon’s birth, their horses moving at brisk walk through the Foregate. The rain managed to keep even those garish people indoors. The thought widened his already ghastly grin, and decided he liked the setting after all.

 

The two managed to get inside the city with little trouble, the customary bribe for silence that would of course be countered by a higher bribe to wag his tongue. As soon as he entered this place, he reflexively made his face neutral, even though he doubted anyone could even see him, let alone his face, in this downpour. As they traveled through the city, Arcon nodded to an inn, and his escort nodded back, mouthing, “Good luck.” The thought brought a cold laugh; luck had no place in Daes Dae’Mar.

 

Arcon kicked his horse into a trot, wanting to arrive at his old home before the cold seeped too far into his bones, he couldn’t have memories aboard a certain pirate ship clouding his mind. He brought his horse over to the old family stables, and tossed the reigns to a very surprised stable hand, “My lord, these stables are reserved for the Dadread family and their honored guests…” The rest of the comment cut off as Arcon pulled back his cloak, revealing the black silk with three vertical slashes of rank. “My old friend, I am of the Dadread family.” He forced his voice to take on a happy tone, trying to be the prodigal son returning home. The man nodded, recognizing Arcon after a few moments, and then the sword on his hip.

 

The son of house Dadread didn’t give him any chance to consider his situation further, pushing past him, and bursting through the doors to his family home.  He walked the still familiar halls, memories rushing back to him. It was getting easier to fake the sadness as he walked these halls, remembering his childhood. Laying his head in her lap, she letting him lay his unpracticed kisses upon those full, perfect lips. Oh god I miss you Alice… He broke stride for a moment, letting the memories wash over him, particularly his first moment of channeling. Fire flew from his hands, as he reached for the heart of the one woman he could ever love, bursting through her chest and burning her own to ash. He breathed deep, and began his walk once again.

 

He found his father where he knew he would, his study. He bursts through the doors, looking at the man who had condemned his love to death, and put relief into his voice. “Father… I am home.” As expected, the older, stronger jawed version of Arcon stared back at him, eyes misting slightly. It took every ounce of training that this man had given him to hold back his disgust, and put that lost look in his eyes. “I… I know you probably hoped to never see me again, after everything that happened. But… I didn’t know where else to go. I wandered everywhere, even got aboard a ship, that’s where I got these.” His hand moved to the long sword on his hip and the eye patch over his eye.

 

“Along the way… I learned what I did was channeling, I could feel the Dark One’s taint in me father…” Secretly he was proud that he remembered to use ‘Dark One’ instead of the proper title of Great Lord of the Dark. “But it felt so wonderful even with it… Still, that doesn’t really matter… The red ajah found me, and the witch gentled me on the spot.” He knew his father knew of the stories of those who were gentled, and how they never lasted long. This next part was the biggest leap… “I only managed to survive, because a tavern girl found me. She was so wonderful, I hope you let me bring her here some day, I just couldn’t die when I had her.” Still the old man was silent, gazing up at his son.

 

Arcon was losing patience, he should have reacted sooner, and so he needed to throw the clincher on his little act. “I’d have to go back and get her, way up north in Saldea, but…” He seized the source, weaving air into his eye to agitate his tear ducts, forcing a single tear to fall from that ghostly pale face. “That is…if you’ll have me. I’ve missed you…” The old man rose, glaring down at his shorter son, his eyes filled with too many emotions to accurately read. Arcon resisted the urge to go for his sword as the man advanced, instead choosing to keep his hidden dagger ready. He never expected what happened though, as his father embraced him, letting out a single sob as he did so.

 

Arcon was confused, out of his element. Tentatively he wrapped his own arms around his father, patting him on the back. To be honest, he had been prepared to torture his father into letting him stay, not to have him holding him in his study.  “You go and get your girl, but stay here for the night at least. We have much to talk about.” Arcon nodded, breaking the hold his father had on him, and taking his old chair opposite the older man. His father sat as well, regaining his composure.

 

Through the hours of the night they talked, Arcon relating his prepared story, his father nodding his head, gasping at the right times, doing his best to feel his sons pain as he ‘lost the source’.  Arcon had to consciously control his features, wanting to put on his skeletal grin as he wove his tale, telling of getting caught up on a ‘merchant vessel’ and the ‘rough and rude first mate teaching him the sword.’ Bitterly he swallowed a vile curse involving flesh eating fish and Mr. Sweeper’s private parts.

 

When he was done, his father related the events that had transpired after he had left, noting that for a while the family had fallen on hard times, but the clever old man had managed to reverse their fortunes. Even passing tales that his channeling son was in the Foregate, loyal to the house and disposing of its enemies. A few well placed assassinations helped keep that rumor alive, and with Arcon’s return, the fear could only grow. Still, they would have to play it off, gradually reintroducing him to court, letting the rumor mill do its work.

 

Arcon went to bed that night, in his old room, filled with thoughts of working his way up in Nobility. He thought of how wonderfully clever his father was, having nearly forgotten that in the years that had passed. To bad I’ll be slitting his throat before too long… The thought brought his ghastly smile back to his lips, as he quickly fell into a deep slumber. He had a hard ride back to ‘Saldea’ to pick up his ‘lover’ and ‘friend’ who had saved him when he had lost the source…