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Sooner Or Later


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#1 Laufey

Posted 26 March 2004 - 03:21 PM

Author's note: This one was written for an Attic Quiz, I believe it should be fairly obvious who the protagonist is if you have read my previous stories.



Sooner Or Later

Sooner or later, I’m going to have to tell him. I have told myself this, more than once, year after year. I know I have to, I know it perfectly well. And I want to, I want it very much. But there are all these other things to consider, all the factors that I cannot control. How I loathe not being able to control such an important aspect of my life as this. Control has always been very important to me, and control of my own fate more than anything else. But this I cannot control, not as I would like to.

I raise my head from the parchment at the sound of raised voices coming from outside the cabin door. The cabin is fairly small, but comfortable enough. The bunks are soft for their kind, though of course he complains incessantly about how it is too narrow, too hard, too lumpy, and how the pillow ‘feels wrong’ and ‘isn’t fluffy enough’. I think tonight I will probably inform him that if he thinks it’s that bad, he can sleep on the floor. With no pillow whatsoever, I might add. I may be used to working nights, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy being kept awake interminably.

The voices are getting louder now, just as I suspected they would. I strain my ears a little, listening. Yes, he is apparently explaining to some crewmembers how they should handle the ship, and letting them know that he is a superior navigator, the likes of which has never been seen on the salty seas. Which is true, in a sense. If you count toy boats. I make a special little room inside my head for the conversation, listening to it on an unconscious level even as I write. Should things turn too ugly, I will be ready to step in. It would not be a good idea to kill them though, not out here. It’s not as if I know how to sail a ship, we would probably wind up in all the wrong places. Not to mention that it would be extremely tacky. No, I will simply have to intervene before things get out of hand, but I hope I won’t have to. Sooner or later, he has to learn how to speak with people without constantly insulting them. Sooner or later. Probably later. I will most likely be long since in my grave by the time that happens. Actually, my grave will probably have long since crumbled to dust before it happens.

The thought of that brings to mind how sooner or later he will have to learn to deal with dangerous and delicate situations on his own. That thought is enough to make me want to bury my head in my hands and groan, but I cannot deny it. I won’t always be there to guide him, no matter how hard I try. And my profession is a dangerous one, one that rarely allows for mistakes. I am good, even very good, but nobody is perfect. Any mission could be my last, and he has to be ready, has to be prepared for that inevitable day. That is part of the reason why I agreed to this little trip. Yes, I would have insisted on coming anyway, to keep him safe on his first important assignment, but I also hope he might learn something from it. That perhaps, just perhaps, he will become a little more thoughtful, a little less reckless. He is very clever, and I am frequently very proud of him, but there are still some things he needs to learn, and that I cannot teach him. Hopefully this mission of his will help with that.

Ah, whom am I trying to fool? It is not only he that needs to learn. I need to train myself to let go of him as well, to dare let him make his own mistakes, or he will never learn anything. But it is hard, so very hard. How can I send my child toddling off down a steep road, with pitfalls and deadly traps everywhere, with wild animals lurking in the bushes wanting to tear him to pieces? How can I do that, when I know I could snatch him away to safety at any time? When all I want is to keep him safe? But I have to do it all the same. Yes, I will do what I can on this mission, but much of the time he will be on his own, or rather in the company of that girl, the Bhaalspawn, the one he is being sent to spy upon. A child of the dead god of murder. How ironic, that. I suppose many people would think I ought to worship her, or him. That I ought to care about whether she will wield her dead father’s power or not, or about whom she might be interested in serving. But all I can think of is the harm she could do to my child. My brilliant, hot-tempered, beautiful, proud and foolish child.

I sigh, having penned those words. Seeing them there, in black on white, is a very odd sensation. I have never told him. Sooner or later, he has to be told, but so far…I haven’t dared. I want to, don't believe otherwise. I want to, more than almost anything else in the world. But I…we…have kept the secret for so long now, I don't even know how to begin. In the beginning it was pure necessity of course. A small child cannot be trusted with the knowledge that his father is somebody other than he thinks. It wouldn't have been fair to burden him with such a secret, and above all else, it would have been far too dangerous. Should he let something slip, we would all be in very grave danger. So the secret was kept, much as I hated having to do so, much as I longed to claim him openly. It hurt, having to maintain a certain distance to him, a level of formality. Having to always be careful, so very careful not to appear too openly affectionate. But I did it all the same, because it was necessary.

And so he grew up, slowly but steadily, and he has never guessed the truth. I do love him, and I have never told him that, at least not in words. It would be 'out of character' for me to do so, after all, and I must play my part faithfully. I hope he knows it though, at least on some level. I hope that he at least cares somewhat for me in return, enough not to utterly reject me when the time comes that I have to tell him the truth. That is the first of my fears, that he will hate and resent me for having lied to him all this time, and for depriving him of his identity. What will that do to him, learning that he isn't who he thought he was? He has grown up knowing himself to be one of the nobility, the heir to a powerful name, and he is proud of the fact. How will he react when he learns of his real, rather more humble origins? How can he not blame me for taking that away from him? How can I hurt him that way? And yet I have to do it, sooner or later. He has a right to know, and to do what he will with the knowledge.

And that is my other fear. It's extremely ironic, how he seems to think that I fear nothing whatsoever. How little he knows. My greatest fears are tied to him and beside them all others pale and wither into nothing. Even if somehow, miraculously, he won't despise me for the truth, will he be able to keep the secret? He is no longer a small child, easy as it is to forget it sometimes, but his sharp mind unfortunately has no talent at all for dissembling. I fear that he will give himself away, give us all away, and put us in danger. I am prepared to take my chances, but how can I put him at risk, or his mother? But sooner or later, I will be forced to do it. As I said, he has a right to know.

There is another possibility, albeit a slim one. That somehow, miraculously, he won't hate me, and that everything will turn out all right. That is the hope I cling to, the hope I need in order to make myself do what I have to do. To not be a coward. The problem is, I am not a naturally optimistic person, and my mind keeps coming up with all these excuses. A coward's excuses.

No. I will not let him down, I have promised myself this more than once. This trip, this first assignment of his will be helpful. It will show me if he is ready. If he can infiltrate the Bhaalspawn's company, then I believe I dare trust him with our secret as well. And then, once the danger is over and I think he can handle the truth, I will tell him, and we will see what happens. Should he reject me, at least I will have the comfort of knowing he can defend himself. Not yet though. Soon, but not yet.

In a moment, I will burn this note, and watch the words first glow, then fade. Once it is done, I will gather the ashes, and carefully scatter them into the sea. I am always careful, that is both a strength and a weakness. At any rate, nobody will be able to use any divination spells to learn the truth I have guarded for so many years now. Nobody will learn, not until I am ready.

Ah, I hear the voices getting louder outside the cabin. No doubt he has finally managed to provoke the sailors. In a moment, he will storm in here, and complain loudly to me about how the 'rude and snivelling sea-monkeys refuse to defer to his supreme nautical skills' or some such nonsense. And I will listen patiently, and probably make a pointed remark on the virtues of diplomacy as opposed to ranting, and I will love every moment, no matter how exasperated he manages to make me. And later tonight, as I lie awake, listening to his breathing, I will wonder how I have managed to keep the secret for so long. But I know the answer already. It is because I had to, just as I soon will have to tell him the truth.

And I will, I swear it. I will.

Sooner or later.


[/b]
Rogues do it from behind.




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