Nama? She’s a riddle, even amongst the Gods. We have creation myths for the Gods, how they’ve born, shat out from a hole in the rocks or whatever. Heck, even Ur has one. But not Nama. We have no idea where she came from. For all we know, she’s always been here, just waiting for our civilizations to sprout out. We call her Goddess of Death and Fate, but that’s only because our ancestors called her so. In reality, we have no idea what she actually does. We know that she takes away the dead, but the rest? Is she dole out the endings? Does she weave fates? Who the fuck knows?

All we know is that she’s there, watching, always watching. She’s a witness, they say, and doesn’t take parts, not in the bickering of the Gods nor in the wars of the mortals.

From the lessons of Gorren An-Tudok to his disciple

Being back to the compound felt good. Gorren had plenty of work to do back in Blackstone, enough to not risk losing himself in the depressing misery of the place, but city life wasn’t and wouldn’t probably ever be his thing. There were too many distractions, sounds and damn people. No, his natural habitat was there, between his beloved works. Once, he would add “in blessed solitude”, but that wasn’t the case anymore. The fiasco at the facility stung hard, but to hell with it. He had a lead, and that was already much.

Still, not even the cool, cavernous air, the hushed silence, or the dizzying array of machines and experiments and magic could quell the anxiety grasping at his chest in that moment.

Alone in the corridor, the roughly carved walls making it seem more like the work of nature than actual intent, the old mage walked restlessly back and forth.

For the fourth time - he had kept count - he glanced at the pile of parchments and books laying on the floor. He had thought long and hard about this, and now everything was ready, he was certain of it. There was nothing else to check and control and decide. He had checked and controlled and decided everything.

Then, why was he feeling so uncertain?

He grunted, brimming with unease. He was used to anxiety. A delicate experiment, the careful building of a multi-layered spell, his whole fucking life; there was plenty of reason for it. But tottering like a student at his first exam? That was ridiculous, and certainly not worthy of him, not of Gorren An-Tudok.

Folding his arms before his chest, he glared at the closed door. If it wasn’t impossible, he would have said that it was mocking him.

He drummed his fingers on a biceps, thinking. It wasn’t so hard, come on!

A presence intruded in his perceptions. Gorren knitted his brows together. Just what he needed now.

“I know that you’re here.” He intoned, emotionless, without interrupting his attempt to glare a hole in the offending door.

Without as much as a whisper, Nama appeared at his side.

“Being on guard all the time like this will end up spoiling your health,” teased the Goddess of Death with her rasping voice.

Gorren rolled his eyes, and didn’t answer.

Nama continued smoothly. “I heard about your newest acquisition.” The dark figure caressed her mask with long. bony fingers. “An Animus, eh? Poor thing. Created to be a tool and then thrown to the wolves.”

Gorren glanced at her, feeling a spark of irritation. “And i am one of them, manipulating her to become one of my servants.” He stated. “And then?”

For whatever reason, the Goddess seemed to draw a sick pleasure from prodding the faults in his actions. Too bad for her that he didn’t care one iota about the greater majority of them.

“Calm down now.” Nama said, raising a hand in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say it was wrong. In fact, i quite appreciated it. Especially that bit about the name. Well struck.”

Gorren didn’t answer. Yes, he had prodded Pip - or Discordia, like she had decided to call herself - to look at her new employment under a positive light, more as a choice of her making than a true costriction, a stepping stone toward something better, a first grasping of destiny in her own hands. Well, he wasn’t going to feel bad about it. A willing soldier was infinitely better than an unwilling one; and one with a reason to do well even so.

“I feel some kind of sympathy from you toward this new addition.” Nama mused. “Am i wrong?”

Gorren kept his opinion to himself. Still, that prying entity wasn’t wrong. He felt a sort of duty toward Discordia, a small liking. Despite the immorality of it, she was a remnant of her old world, a direct connection to it, as feeble as it was. Also, she always remained a great conquest of magic research, one that had to be safeguarded and studied, not only for what new horizons could unlock but as well as a gesture of respect toward the memory of those that worked and died to bring her to life. The making of intelligent life wasn’t a province that men should trifle with, but that didn’t diminish the Animus’ value.

And… he guessed that he could empathize with someone like her, struggling to find her own freedom, her own life; unable to decide for herself for so much time…

“Look at you.” Nama exclaimed, smacking him playfully in the back of the knee with her staff. “Playing the part of the grumps. But there’s a big heart under all that angst!”

Gorren yelped, and barely caught himself from falling. He glared daggers at the Goddess.

“I would sacrifice her without a moment’s notice if it served my aims!” He barked angrily, cheeks flushing.

“Whoops, moment passed. Back to being inhuman.” The Goddess chuckled.

Gorren showed her his teeth, managing only, to his rage, to make her chuckle again. That phantom was impossible!

He planted his gaze on the door, resolutely determined to ignore her. His calf crawled where she had hit him, igniting a flush of furious humiliation. The… the nerve of her! If she wasn’t a Goddess, he would have blasted her to kingdom come!

“By the way, what are you doing here?”

Gorren angrily ignored her. Goddess she may be, she couldn’t force an answer out of him!

“You’re always running around doing stuff. It’s so strange that… oh!”

Gorren stiffened. He didn’t… he didn’t like the sound of that.

“You’re scared to go to see your children!” Nama’s slight surprise turned to amusement even as she spoke.

Gorren refused to divert his gaze from the door. He felt his face heat, and this time wasn’t just because of rage.

“I am not scared of anything.” He grumbled.

Nama’s chuckle felt like a slap. “Come on now.” She caressed her mask, where her chin was supposed to be. It made Gorren wonder how she managed to be so expressive even with that blank of a face on. “Mh, i think i know where the problem is.”

Of course she does, Gorren thought bitterly. That witch had been enough around him and his to just be able to understand what he didn’t want to talk about. Once again, he lamented the fact that she was a goddess.

“It’s about the fiery one, isn’t? The one without a name.”

Gorren remained silent.

“You’re nervous about the children business as a whole, but she is a big pickle of his own, isn’t she?” She asked, her tone conversational. “About her being left alone, incomplete. You feel responsible. You feel… ashamed.”

Gorren would have loved to get angry at how precisely she guessed his feelings. He felt he should be. Instead, there was only tiredness burrowing in his chest.

He thought about denying. He thought better. What was the point anyway?

“Yes.” He sighed.

Nama hummed. “And?” She glided to peak at him.

“And nothing.” Gorren grunted, refusing to look at her. “I deserve it. I will endure it.”

Nama drew back, looking, for the first time, surprised.

He could almost picture the arched eyebrows behind that mask, if there even were such things and not a polished skull instead. What he didn’t expect was the smack against his calf.

It was so sudden that he let out a surprised sound, that turned outraged even as it came out.

“What are you doing?” He hissed, whirling to face her.

Still, he found no laid back trickster this time. Nama stood tall, with a bony fist propped against her side.

“That’s what i am asking.” She said, not even a trace of hilarity left. “The heck is that supposed to mean?”

The change was so sudden that Gorren was on the back foot for a moment. Then, pride reasserted itself.

“I don’t have to explain anything to… ouch!” The third smack caught him square on the shin.

“Stop that!” He stepped back, scandalized. What was the matter all of a sudden with her? Also, nobody had ever, ever!, dared to smack him like that. And she had done it three times already!

Out of instinct, Gorren lifted a hand already glowing with energy. If it was anyone else, bolts would already be flying. The fact that what he was facing was the Goddess of Death checked him. Barely.

“Put down that paw, you bearded freak.” Nama rebuked him. “And answer my question.”

Answer her question? He was going to blast her, that was what he was going to do! There was a limit to the freedoms she could take with him, Goddess or not!

Still, something stopped him from barking out the rude answer pushing in his throat, as well as the mana bolt brewing in his fingers. Maybe it was the way she towered over his goblin form, all darkness and polished bone; maybe it was the way she bore herself, dignified and overbearing, maybe it was something else. Whatever the reason, the reply he would have loved to give never came out.

Instead, to his own surprise, he found himself… chastised?

“It’s just… that i don’t think it would be of much use.” He blinked. Did he just… try to explain himself?

Gorren was bewildered. He was Gorren An-Tudok! He didn’t… he didn’t need to explain himself! And surely not to that... That divine meddler!

Was he under the effect of some kind of divine enchantment? To his immense surprise, he found that he was not. His mana flow was as spotless as a baby born.

Nama tilted her head aside. She looked very irritated. “And why’s that?”

Gorren fidgeted, then realized that he was fidgeting and stopped. That situation was so unreal!

He took a deep breath, and then let it out. When he was done, he had retrieved some poise.

“It’s unforgivable.” He simply said. Nama was going to pester him until he got it out, so he might as well make her happy. And… he guessed it might feel somewhat nice to say it to someone. “My not noticing that she was alive, leaving her incomplete like that… there is no excuse.” Gorren felt a knot in his chest. He was wrong. It didn’t feel nice at all to let it out.

“You didn’t know.” Nama pointed out.

Gorren made an irritated gesture. “Ignorance is no excuse. I should have noticed. I should have…” Anger, his pillar, deserted him, leaving him to feel empty. He weakly shook a fist.

“To be left like that, thrown away, repelled. A waste in the mud.” He murmured. He held up his hands before himself, watching the calloused palms. He clutched them into fists. “No child should suffer something like that. Nobody should.”

Nama said nothing. She didn’t need to, since they both knew that Gorren talked out of experience.

The past, with his darks vistas and unwanted memories, swam mockingly before the old mage. What he had wanted to bury, and could never forget. How he too had been thrown away to die like a dog, that night of so much time ago…

How could he ask for forgiveness after such a crime? Simply, he couldn’t. The only way was penance. He would endure his daughter’s hatred even while he taught her to live. And then… then what it had to happen would happen.

A smack on the shin tore him out of his dark thoughts, making him hiss.

“Whatever.” Nama chuckled, but there wasn’t mirth there. “If it’s difficult, think about your duty as a father then.”

The word almost made him jolt. “I am!” He protested. “That’s why…!”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Nama shushed him. “It‘s just your vanity that is talking. Gorren An-Tudok, doing the worst he can imagine to someone else. Your pride won’t let you sleep until you atoned in some way.”

“No, i…” Gorren pushed back. He wasn’t going to take that! “And is not that right? Atone for one’s mistake? It‘s just right!”

“Sure, and then what?” Nama smoothly replied. “You’re going to walk in that room, and you’re going to start talking like nothing ever happened? Be serious!” She punctuated with another smack on his shin. “Who’s going to benefit for it? Just your big stupid pride. And that poor kid? What about her? What she’s going to think? I tell you what. That it was true after all, that you left her.”

“I…” Gorren didn’t know what to say. All the words were stuck in his throat.

“You nothing.” Nama gestured sharply, calm but relentless. “Now you’re going in there, you’re going to swallow that stupid pride of yours and you’re going to say sorry.”

Gorren felt like there was a vice around his heart. Still, he couldn’t talk.

Nama continued, implacable. “You’re going to say that you’re sorry.” She repeated. “And you’re going to take all the guilt, the shame and the humbleness that you’re trying to evade with all that talk about repentance. Like a fucking man. That poor flameling is gonna finally know that she’s wanted in this world of ours; and both those kids are going to get a father that thinks about them before than himself. The Om knows that they deserve one.” Fist propped against her side, she squared him off with a severe glance, something incredible considering the mask.

Gorren opened his mouth. He wanted to reply, to defend his own choice. But his fighting thoughts had decided to desert him just in that moment. A traitorous awareness, clear like the full moon, stabbing him like a stiletto in his heart, stood in their place. That damn Goddess was right. He had been thinking only about himself.

He lowered his head.

“Good.” Nama nodded with amused satisfaction. “I told you that you aren’t a bad guy after all.”

Gorren was too tired to care about that last barb. “It’s useless.” He mumbled. “She won’t forgive me.”

“Now you’re doing it again.” Nama chuckled. “Only because you wouldn’t do it, it doesn’t mean others wouldn’t.”

Gorren managed to throw her a venomous glance. “You’re the only one, you know that? Nobody can do this to me.”

Nama laughed. “Maybe Helios could.”

Gorren snorted, finding back a bit of his usual dour demeanor. “Not even Helios.”

With a sigh, he gestured. The pile of papers floated to him. “I guess i’ll go then.”

“Good thinking. Better do it while you have your brain screwed the right way. Chop chop.” Nama gave him a thumb up.

Gorren snorted, but stomped toward the door. As he did, nervousness decided to rear back his ugly head.

“A last help maybe? Ah, and good luck!”

The smack caught him straight into his poor, abused calf, sending him almost slamming against the door. Thankfully, he managed to open it while he fought for balance and his fall ended up into a stagger.

“You need to fucking…!” He whirled around, bruised pride having just enough. But the gloom of the corridor was empty.

Gorren sucked in an outraged breath, then turned back.

Both Argus and the fire-child were watching him.

“Father! Who are you talking to?” The small were-rat asked, looking unsure if be excited for the new arrival or curious about his question.

Gorren caught himself, retaking his posture. He coughed. That damn trickster. She had to hand him that last joke.

He glanced toward the left bed, meeting a pair of curious red eyes that quickly turned sour and turned away. Something cold slithered down his spine, but he made a point of ignoring it. Or at least, tried.

“Yes, yes, it’s me.”

That had to be the lamest introduction ever, but he felt he was somewhat justified for it.

The Gremlin he had posted as a guard - he couldn’t bother to remember the name - jumped at his feet so quickly that the chair he had sitting over almost toppled. Gorren waved away his attempts to be welcoming. As much as the fellow had been useful, faking dozing off to listen to what his children had to say to each other, he really wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

The Gremlin understood the message quickly. With a bow to him and the two convalescents, he retreated from the room.

Gorren put the fellow out of his mind the moment he closed the door behind himself. Painfully aware of Argus and the firechild’s gazes over him, he stomped to the fireplace, where a pot full with broth waited. He gave it a good stir, trying to think how to go with this.

Nama’s counsel, well not really a counsel, more of a bullying, glowed brightly at the forefront of his thoughts, with all his relative company of outrage and invincible inevitability. A part of him, the greater, wanted nothing more but rebuke it. The rest…

With a start, he realized that he had taken out one of the pouches he carried at his belt, and was already about to dump some of the white powder inside in the cauldron.

For the second time, he wondered if he wasn’t under some kind of twisted mind-altering spell. For the second time, to his despair, he found that he wasn’t.

He hesitated, then threw a pinch of the dust in. After giving it another good stir, he filled a bowl of broth. Once done, he hesitated again. His children’s gazes felt like two fire marks on his back, one more than the other. He repressed a sneer. What was going on with him? This wasn’t him! He wasn’t such an indecisive moron!

He tore himself from the fireplace, and stomped to the beds.

As expected, Argus was the only one fervently waiting for him. Gorren threw a rapid glance at the fire-child’s back, then sat on the were-rat’s bed. He hated how nervous he felt. Thankfully, he still had his poker face on.

As he always did, he asked Argus about his health, to which the small were-rat replied with a curious mix between enthusiasm and shyness. It didn’t elude Gorren how he kept throwing quick, nervous glances toward the other bed, but he made a point of not showing it.

“Good good.” He mumbled to Argus’ reassurances that he was feeling better and better. He knew it much better than him, of course; he performed regular health inspections on both of them after all. Still, he couldn’t but be reminded whom was exactly at fault for them being still there.

His heart gave a small squeeze.

Indecision tried to rear back its ugly head, but he wouldn’t let it.

“Here. Eat.” Almost without thinking, he gave Argus the bowl.

The small were-rat received it with something approaching reverence. Still, his eagerness for food melted quickly into doubt.

“Can’t…” He stammered, gaze low. “Can’t Sparky also…”

Gorren arched an eyebrow. “Sparky?” He threw a wary glance toward the other bed, just in time to catch a small shoulder tense. Someone was getting names she didn’t like, he thought nervously.

“I’ll give her another later.” He said. “Eat now.”

Argus nodded quickly, and obeyed. As small as he was, his appetite didn‘t match his size. A couple of gulps and the bowl was all gone.

“D-done.” Argus said, putting down the drained bowl. He hiccupped. “Ehm, sorry.”

Gorren nodded, too nervous to marvel at the voracity of that strange son of his. “How are you feeling?”

“Good! I…” Argus’ eyes fluttered. He yawned. “It tasted a bit strange, but… oooooh!”

Argus went down with a small thud, already snoring.

Gorren made sure that he was well-covered before turning. He found two red eyes staring wide at the sleeping were-rat. They turned to him as he watched, flaring with anger.

“What have you done?” The fire-child barked.

Gorren fretted with the empty bowl. He was the one asking that. Had he really just drugged his son asleep?

Feeling unsure, something he definitively wasn’t used to, he placed the bowl on the bed. He picked it up a moment later, just to have something to keep his fingers busy with. Distantly, he wondered about the fire-child’s angry reaction. Some kind of protective attitude? For some reason, the possibility sparked a pinch of happiness in his chest.

“Hey! I am talking to you!”

Gorren flinched. Right, she had asked him a question. It was just… what the hell was going on with him?

“He’s just asleep.” He replied, and barely held himself from wincing. That voice, so cold and composed, didn’t feel like his at all.

She didn’t say anything, but the hatred in her eyes increased. Huddled in her blankets, she looked like a wounded baby lioness, aggressive and fierce despite everything.

Gorren subtly swallowed.

“We need to talk.” Cold and demanding, that’s not how he wanted the words to come out, but that was how they decided to be.

The fire-child - or Sparky, like Argus had said - lifted her chin defiantly.

Gorren didn’t know what to say. Yes, they needed to talk. And now what?

Watching her, he was reminded of the time he had seen her inside of the cage. Small, vulnerable, bandages and broken bones now making up for the missing bars.

He felt a painful squeeze in his chest. What had Nama said? Love, relentless and possessive. Yes yes, a thousand times yes. There were no other words to describe the mass of emotions warring in his chest in that moment. They were his children, for fuck’s sake. His, and nobody else’s. He just… he just wanted to see them happy, to keep them protected, forever and ever and ever and ever.

He knew that it was stupid, that they both were but the result of an incredible twist of fate, that he was just searching for replacements, but…

He had lost so much already, and now this, this he didn’t want to lose. Another chance. A promise of a promise. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to lose it.

So, why it was so difficult to speak? He could count on his hands the times he had felt like that, and could do the same with the people that were the cause for it. Weaknesses, distractions, all of them. And still…

Perspiration covered his hands. He felt like he was choking. Why had he to suffer like that? Hadn’t he suffered enough already? Why couldn’t he just stop feeling, once and for all?

Still, as much as stubborn, infantile, broken and sad he could be, Gorren An-Tudok was no coward. He had deluded himself by thinking he could just escape that confrontation. Nama had shown him the truth, ripping away his lies. And he was no coward escaping from the truth.

Gorren An-Tudok lowered his head.

“I am sorry.”

The voice, low and sad and broken, now really felt like his.