Sophia remembered the last time she'd come to the Gallows for a visit to a prisoner. She'd expected that to be the most uncomfortable time she would ever have in the place. Of course she should have expected Dairren to end up here as well. But some part of her, some naive little corner of her that Kirkwall had yet to destroy wondered if this man might really be something better. A slandered captain of the guard, who felt forced into bed with criminals to protect himself, just trying to come to some accord with his daughter. Misguided, certainly, and perhaps still not a good man, but also not an evil one. She was fool to think as much. The good men had a way of falling into early graves. Dairren was far too old for that.
It was a cold day, the winter's chill making the mist from the sea cut like daggers, but Sophia ignored it. She was in her full armor again, Vesenia on her back, having no intention of going before Dairren unarmed. He'd taught her to wield it, true, but he had not seen her in action since she was a girl. She'd learned much and more from the world that her swordplay teacher could not give to her.
The request for the visit had arrived several hours ahead of her, courtesy of the guard captain, and the guards stationed at the Gallows were ready for her arrival, ushering her away from the Templar headquarters and into the prison, where Lieutenant Vesper guided her to the room that had been prepared. It was well away from other prison cells, so she need not fear other prisoners overhearing her conversation. It would be just her and Dairren across a table from each other, Dairren chained hand and foot to that table, with the guards standing ready outside the doors. Sophia nodded her thanks to Ves when they reached the room, and strode through the door that was opened for her. It immediately shut at her back.
"I don't want to be here any longer than I need to," she said, meeting his eyes. "Understand?" He nodded. Dairren looked every bit the prisoner now, clad in a tattered tunic and breeches, the chains binding him to the table by both wrists and ankles extremely short. He couldn't even bring his hands close enough together to touch. Preferring to remain standing, Sophia placed both her hands on the back of the chair before her, gripping it tightly.
"It has been several days," Dairren noted. "You've read the book by now, I assume?"
Sophia tried to bore through his skull with her eyes, but she could never conjure as deadly a look as many she knew. "Do you deny what my mother wrote in it?" He shook his head, answering no. "Then why keep it at all? Why not tear it out with the other pages?"
"Because," he answered, "it was the only evidence I had, real evidence, that you were my daughter. Without it, I had only my word, and I have never been trusted."
"You can't know that I'm your daughter. There is no proof, and there will never be any proof, one way or the other. How can you be certain of it?"
"All I had to do was compare," he said, the chains clinking when they snapped taut, as he tried to lean forward. "Your brother, Saemus, he was not mine. And he was very much developing into his father. You, though... you had a strength Marlowe lacked, something your mother and I gave to you."
"I will not stand here and listen to you insult them," Sophia said, infuriated. "Why now, of all times? Why crawl back to Kirkwall, when you could have lived out your life in peace somewhere else?" She wished he would have. The answers at the end of her search were proving more trouble than they were worth.
"I don't have all that many years left, Sophia. While Vesenia was still alive, I lived for her, even if she didn't want me. When she was gone, I lived for you. For better or worse, I allowed myself nothing else. There was nowhere I could find peace."
"You lived for yourself. You didn't need to interfere with my life. Try to kill my true father, try to worm your way into my good graces. If you wanted what was best for me, for my mother... you never would have done any of this."
His eyes fell down to the table, breath slowly expelled from his lungs. "Perhaps you're right. I've never thought of myself as a good man. I've always done what I had to, didn't care if I had to get my hands dirty. But for her, and for you... I wanted it, I will admit. I wanted it for myself."
"The other pages, the torn out pages," Sophia suddenly interrupted. "What was in them? I assume you were the one to remove them?" Dairren appeared confused for a moment.
"What? Oh. I... your mother wrote a great deal about Marlowe. Childish, perhaps, but... I felt no need to preserve those pages." Sophia was tempted to roll her eyes. By his delivery, she believed him, that nothing important had been left out. He seemed ashamed of that as well, and he'd left the most incriminating piece of information in.
"You're to be hanged. Did you know that?" Sophia had turned sideways, looking now towards the floor, and she spoke more quietly. "You've done more than enough to be put to death even without bringing the charge of rape to light. And it will not come to light. For better or worse, I intend to claim the throne when I have the necessary support. I can't have this hindering me."
"I understand," he said, managing to maintain his composure. He did not seem perturbed by the thought of his impending death. "You will take the throne. I know you will. The people will follow you, when you're ready. Meredith will be forced to step aside."
"I'm glad to have your confidence," she muttered, with no small amount of sarcasm. "I believe that will be all, Dairren. Farewell." She turned to leave, and was unsurprised when he called after her.
"Sophia... I am sorry. I loved your mother. I never meant to hurt her. It was an abominable mistake, and... I am prepared to accept the punishment for it." Sophia paused for a long moment, refusing to turn and face him. She wondered for a time what to say, or if anything should be said. Finally, she settled on something.
"Good."
Rapping her knuckles twice on the door, it was opened from the outside, and Sophia showed herself out, leaving Dairren alone with the silence.
It was a cold day, the winter's chill making the mist from the sea cut like daggers, but Sophia ignored it. She was in her full armor again, Vesenia on her back, having no intention of going before Dairren unarmed. He'd taught her to wield it, true, but he had not seen her in action since she was a girl. She'd learned much and more from the world that her swordplay teacher could not give to her.
The request for the visit had arrived several hours ahead of her, courtesy of the guard captain, and the guards stationed at the Gallows were ready for her arrival, ushering her away from the Templar headquarters and into the prison, where Lieutenant Vesper guided her to the room that had been prepared. It was well away from other prison cells, so she need not fear other prisoners overhearing her conversation. It would be just her and Dairren across a table from each other, Dairren chained hand and foot to that table, with the guards standing ready outside the doors. Sophia nodded her thanks to Ves when they reached the room, and strode through the door that was opened for her. It immediately shut at her back.
"I don't want to be here any longer than I need to," she said, meeting his eyes. "Understand?" He nodded. Dairren looked every bit the prisoner now, clad in a tattered tunic and breeches, the chains binding him to the table by both wrists and ankles extremely short. He couldn't even bring his hands close enough together to touch. Preferring to remain standing, Sophia placed both her hands on the back of the chair before her, gripping it tightly.
"It has been several days," Dairren noted. "You've read the book by now, I assume?"
Sophia tried to bore through his skull with her eyes, but she could never conjure as deadly a look as many she knew. "Do you deny what my mother wrote in it?" He shook his head, answering no. "Then why keep it at all? Why not tear it out with the other pages?"
"Because," he answered, "it was the only evidence I had, real evidence, that you were my daughter. Without it, I had only my word, and I have never been trusted."
"You can't know that I'm your daughter. There is no proof, and there will never be any proof, one way or the other. How can you be certain of it?"
"All I had to do was compare," he said, the chains clinking when they snapped taut, as he tried to lean forward. "Your brother, Saemus, he was not mine. And he was very much developing into his father. You, though... you had a strength Marlowe lacked, something your mother and I gave to you."
"I will not stand here and listen to you insult them," Sophia said, infuriated. "Why now, of all times? Why crawl back to Kirkwall, when you could have lived out your life in peace somewhere else?" She wished he would have. The answers at the end of her search were proving more trouble than they were worth.
"I don't have all that many years left, Sophia. While Vesenia was still alive, I lived for her, even if she didn't want me. When she was gone, I lived for you. For better or worse, I allowed myself nothing else. There was nowhere I could find peace."
"You lived for yourself. You didn't need to interfere with my life. Try to kill my true father, try to worm your way into my good graces. If you wanted what was best for me, for my mother... you never would have done any of this."
His eyes fell down to the table, breath slowly expelled from his lungs. "Perhaps you're right. I've never thought of myself as a good man. I've always done what I had to, didn't care if I had to get my hands dirty. But for her, and for you... I wanted it, I will admit. I wanted it for myself."
"The other pages, the torn out pages," Sophia suddenly interrupted. "What was in them? I assume you were the one to remove them?" Dairren appeared confused for a moment.
"What? Oh. I... your mother wrote a great deal about Marlowe. Childish, perhaps, but... I felt no need to preserve those pages." Sophia was tempted to roll her eyes. By his delivery, she believed him, that nothing important had been left out. He seemed ashamed of that as well, and he'd left the most incriminating piece of information in.
"You're to be hanged. Did you know that?" Sophia had turned sideways, looking now towards the floor, and she spoke more quietly. "You've done more than enough to be put to death even without bringing the charge of rape to light. And it will not come to light. For better or worse, I intend to claim the throne when I have the necessary support. I can't have this hindering me."
"I understand," he said, managing to maintain his composure. He did not seem perturbed by the thought of his impending death. "You will take the throne. I know you will. The people will follow you, when you're ready. Meredith will be forced to step aside."
"I'm glad to have your confidence," she muttered, with no small amount of sarcasm. "I believe that will be all, Dairren. Farewell." She turned to leave, and was unsurprised when he called after her.
"Sophia... I am sorry. I loved your mother. I never meant to hurt her. It was an abominable mistake, and... I am prepared to accept the punishment for it." Sophia paused for a long moment, refusing to turn and face him. She wondered for a time what to say, or if anything should be said. Finally, she settled on something.
"Good."
Rapping her knuckles twice on the door, it was opened from the outside, and Sophia showed herself out, leaving Dairren alone with the silence.