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Denial, Edgin has found, spreads like a disease. And he’s been diseased for a very, very long time.
Things have happened in his life that haunt him like a distant dream. Things that, some nights, in the blurry haze between consciousness and sleep, he forgets completely. The honor he once had. His turn toward greed, and the consequences thereof that took everything he loved. His livelihood. His oath to serve.
His wife.
And then he wakes to reality crashing down, and turns again toward the same habits that destroyed him to stifle the weight of mourning. An obsession always growing, encroaching around the edges of his soul, threatening to overcome him completely. He had things to lose, at first. His team, his daughter, and then not even that. He sits in his cell with Holga at his side, letting his obsession drive him forward, letting it blind him to the truth.
Evil might have worn a red cloak, but his was the hand behind it all. Edgin is not a good man. There’s no excuse for the things he’s done, no matter how much gold that comes with it.
His daughter grew up without a father even with him right there in front of her, and he’s let denial fuel the barrier between them for far too long. It took him two years to get back to her. And a lifetime he intends to make up for, even if it kills him.
And then Forge happened. An attack that came and went, and with it the only hope he had to see his wife again. But he doesn’t regret it. Not when Kira’s tears have dried. Not when Holga laughs beside him, alive and whole.
The people have their treasure back, and Edgin sits in the orange glow of a lively tavern, strumming his lute, staring over the edge of a precipice he never expected to find.
A rowdy crowd roars along with the tune he plucks, dancing tirelessly into the early hours. Stoic Holga stands beside him, back against the bar as she eyes a dwarf across the room like prey, a rare smile on her face as she mutters the words to Edgin’s song. Kira, Simon and Doric seem enraptured with a stranger’s tale, leaning forward in their seats, the latter two white knuckling their drinks and, Edgin doesn’t miss, each other’s hands. Something new, but it suits them, whether Doric will admit it or not. He doesn’t think too much about it.
And he- he’s got a smile of his own, stretched warmly across his face. He’d almost forgotten what it’s like to entertain. To feel the notes and the spirit of a song tumble from his fingers, uniting people the way only music can. He’s been many things in his life but this, perhaps, is one he’s missed the most. He is a bard, after all. The one thing about him that’s stayed the same after all these years.
A peculiar thought. And a familiar state of being from which he looks out into the world and sees, for the first time since his escape from prison, just how much everything else has changed. Just how much he’s lost and gained.
The song ends, and Edgin takes a swig from his ale. He watches, for just a moment, as his daughter shoots a mischievous grin in his direction and, to the shock of those around her, disappears into thin air, only to reappear again a second later.
Then, a mug slams onto the counter next to him, startling him out of his thoughts. Holga claps a heavy hand onto his shoulder, a decidedly dangerous tilt to her smile as she gazes predatorily across the room.
“Well,” she growls. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”
Edgin raises an eyebrow. “You know where I’ll be,” he grins. “Try not to break the guy, we only just managed to fix things.”
“Oh, I won’t break him,” she says, though her words don't match the heat in her eyes, or the way her shoulders heave in a warrior’s stretch. “Well. Not much anyway.” Edgin laughs, and she takes her leave, making a bee line toward a rather red faced dwarf.
His smile fades, just a bit. He watches his friend’s back as she walks away and for a moment- just a moment -he remembers feeling her blood spill over his hands.
She almost died. She did die. And then she came back, and he’s more than grateful for it. He couldn’t live without her. But there’s an absence where his beloved used to be now, no longer filled with dreams of revival.
He’s not sure he’ll ever recover. Denial is a disease he’s let himself suffer under for years, but there’s no use denying this, however much he wants to. It’s over. There’s nothing to it. And the future yawns before him like a chasm.
“Oi, bard!” Shouts a drunk man to his left, and salutes him with a sloshing ale. “Another! Today’s a day of joy! Here here!”
“Here here!” Echoes the tavern, and Edgin’s smile returns full force as he complies, filling the air with a cheerful shanty.
A day of joy, huh? It is, he supposes. His team single handedly defeated two evils at once, after all. And perhaps this precipice isn’t so scary when it heralds a new beginning, and a chance to do some good in this world after everything that’s happened.
There’s no forgiving the evil he’s done, but seeing everyone happy and together again feels much more like an antidote than he expected. Perhaps the chasm of the future doesn’t have to be so bleak.
Perhaps, after some time dragging together the pieces of his life, he doesn’t have to deny himself the hope of a better one, either.
So Edgin sings, and Edgin strums, and he lets himself relax after all this time, after straining for so long. Kira dances and shows off her pendant, and he pretends not to see Doric plant a soft kiss on Simon’s cheek in their drunken stupor. And in the early hours of the morning when he finally goes to sleep, he dreams of things past and future that he’s still learning to accept, but feels in his heart is a step in the right direction.
He’s denied Zia’s words for long enough. It’s the most painful thing this sinner has ever done, but he’s tired of running. Not with what he’s gained, worth more than any treasure. So he’ll close his eyes, heart aching, and let go of his past the way he should. Let the disease melt away and start anew- a wandering adventurer in a world of joy and heartbreak and lessons learned, many years overdue.