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Nila nervously bounced her legs up and down under the table, while watching the entrance of the Cobbled Swan with intense eyes. Neve, bless her heart, had offered to stay for moral support, but this was something Nila had to do on her own. Besides, if things went south, the last thing she wanted was for Neve to witness her family drama.
It had been twelve years since Nila last saw her father. The thought of changing that never crossed her mind, until she heard from the Shadow Dragons that the great Legatus Charon Mercar was privately expressing support for reform. Hearing his name, it brought back a lot of complicated memories… Fear. Guilt. Liberty. But also a craving to find some kind of closure.
Then, Nila saw him: a large, broad-shouldered human with a perfectly groomed beard stepped through the door. His hair had grey roots and his eyes had more tired creases, but otherwise Nila’s father looked just like she remembered from the day she left.
Charon scanned the room, and Nila lifted up a shaky arm to wave him over. He did not seem to recognize her at first, and she could hardly blame him for that. Nila had made considerable changes to her appearance, to finally shape it in a way that felt right. It took a lot of controversial alchemy, even more controversial magic, and of course patience, but looking in the mirror brought her a great deal of pride these days.
That pride was dashed hearing Charon immediately call her, “Ravi?” as he sat down.
“My name is Nila now, actually,” she reminded him with a tight smile of how she signed off the letter she sent, inviting him to meet.
Charon looked her over. “Nila,” he repeated, sounding rather unsure of himself. “You’ve… changed, I see.”
“Yes, I’m much happier now,” Nila started twiddling her thumbs in her lap, desperately hoping he would not prod her for the details he had no right to ask. Not after what happened between them.
There was a silence, awkward and tense, until Charon finally spoke once more. “Should I apologize first, or you?”
Nila frowned. “You’re the one who threw me out. What exactly should I apologize for?”
“You endangered us all when you freed that slave, Ra—Nila,” he quickly corrected himself, though his voice remained stern. “I did what I had to, to protect your mother and your siblings.”
“But not me. You didn’t even try to protect me,” Nila curled her lip, already cursing herself for even thinking things would be different. “The little elf you stole from a battlefield turned out to be too much trouble once the novelty wore off, right?”
Charon sighed. “Is this why you invited me here? To shame me?”
“No,” Nila shook her head. “I invited you here because I thought maybe things would be different. We have a mutual friend now, after all.”
“And who would that be?” Charon raised a curious eyebrow.
“I know you’ve met with Magister Dorian Pavus,” Nila said rather up front, much to Charon’s shock. “And I know he asked you to try and convince the Imperator to support the abolitionists.”
The two stopped talking at the approach of a waitress who took her father’s order for a drink. Nila decided to ask for another as well. They sat quietly until the waitress returned, then Charon started downing his glass a little too quickly. Nila squeezed the slice of fruit on the edge of her cocktail.
“I should’ve known you’d wind up with that lot,” Charon hummed, and Nila wasn’t sure if it was in a tone of condemnation or reassurance. Maybe both. “I assume you also know then, that I declined. I suppose they sent you to try and convince me to change my mind?”
“I sent myself, actually,” Nila corrected. “And honestly, I couldn’t care less what you decide, Father. Because I know more than anyone that there is always a way to keep going, with or without you.” Nila stopped squeezing the crushed fruit and took a drink. “But I will admit I am curious to know why.”
“Look,” Charon leaned forward, and began speaking softly, “I admit I’ve had thoughts about it, in the past few years. Even spoken on it a few times – what it might be like, if things were different. But… Nila, you and your Shadow Dragons must know deep down, Tevinter could not survive without our slaves.”
“Then it does not deserve to survive,” Nila insisted.
“Your group will crumble first; nothing can live on hope alone.”
Nila frowned again. “Better to die in hope than live in cowardice.”
“I am not a coward, I am practical,” Charon argued, sitting back again in his chair. But Nila noticed something: a slight stiffness in his shoulders that wasn’t there before. She hit a nerve.
“You say you’ve thought about it. I’ve heard that so many times, but what good are your thoughts if you do not act on them? You’re military, you’ve seen soldiers quit the field before. And right now, you’re doing the same thing. Giving up before you even try. What is that, if not the choice of a coward?”
Charon didn’t respond immediately. He just picked up his drink and finished it in another gulp. “Let’s say I did talk to the Imperator on your group’s behalf. There’s no guarantee he’d listen, you know.”
“Then you keep talking to whoever will. If you can inspire people to fight for Tevinter, you can inspire people to fight against it.”
“You’re going to get me killed,” Charon huffed. “If not by the Imperator, than by your mother.”
“She would understand.”
“Perhaps.”
The two sat for a while longer, locked in a staring contest. Finally, Charon broke, and dipped his eyes down to the table. “I make no promises,” he finally said, then stood up and went to tuck his chair back in. “But it’s apparent I’m not the only one who knows how to inspire people.”
Nila nodded in farewell, and wondered when she would see him again. If she would see him again. Maybe it didn’t go exactly as she had planned, but having prepared for the worst, she was happy it didn’t come to that, at least. Then she reminded herself of her own words: it didn’t matter what her father did, in the end. The Shadow Dragons would still bring the light. Nila had to believe that.