HOMECOMING (approx 3800 words)

Alternate title: Darren and Friends Return to the Sunshine Farm

“Don’t worry, kid. It’ll be fine.” Ralon grinned, wrappinghis good arm around Darren’s shoulders and pulling him in close. “We askedaround already, remember? No bad news from Glendess.”

“I know, I know.” Darren mustered a faint smile as he slid out of Ralon’s embrace. “It’s just… y’know… it’s been a while.”

“But they’re your family,”Lyrene pointed out fondly, shaking her head. “Trust me. That hasn’t changed justbecause you were away for a few years.”

“Yeah… I suppose.” He sniffed, stood a little straighter,and glanced about the group. “Thank you, though. For coming with me.”

Ralon raised a brow. “And risk you getting lost on your own?Forget it! We’re invested. It washard work keeping you alive.”

Whatever Ralon’s intention had been, he had clearly missed themark. Darren’s confidence faltered as his gaze dropped. 

“I know…”

Cyrus, who had thus far been watching in silence, reached outto ruffle the kid’s hair. “He’s joking,pipsqueak.” Gently, he turned Darren’s head in the direction of a distantfarmhouse. “Now come on. I want to meet your dog.”

There was always something special about reunions, butwatching Darren walk up the path to his childhood home left a strange knot inCyrus throat that no amount of swallowing seemed able to shift. He, Ralon, and Lyrenehung back, not wanting to get in the way for the time being. They all knew howmuch this moment meant to Darren, after all. None of them had forgotten thosefirst few months sharing a barracks. How many times they’d heard quietsniffling from his cot, a piece of paper clutched tight in his hands. He’d cherishedthose letters the way most people cherished an heirloom. Now, well…

They got to the top of the hill by the farmhouse, thewindows finally visible over the curve of the land. It was homely, asCyrus had expected. No lavish gardens or fountains. Well, unless a troughcounted as a water feature. He smiled faintly, drinking in the wandering bushes and tall, untrimmed trees. It was wild and tamed all at once. Everythingwas in its proper place, just by nature’s design instead of man’s.

The squeak of hinges signalled Darren opening the gate tothe property. He latched it clumsily, hands shaking as he tried to workthe metal hook through the loop. It gave the rest of them time to catch up, butRalon rested a comforting hand on Darren’s shoulder and nodded towards thehouse.

“Go on,” he said warmly. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Darren made a short, nervous sound, but nodded anyway. He rubbedhis palms against his trousers as he walked towards the porch, climbing thesqueaky steps, boots echoing on the wood. Lyrene sighed, leaning against thefence, head cocked slightly. “It’s like watching a baby bird leave the nest,”she mused. Ralon just chuckled.

“More like watching it go back.”

Darren raised a knuckle and rapped three times on the door,shifting anxiously from foot to foot as he waited. A part of Cyrus understoodthe kid’s nervousness. Seeing anyone again after years spent away would be harrowing. They liked to joke and tease that Darren was still a kid,and sure, to them he’d always be the littlest duckling, but he’d grown up a lotover the course of the war. Maybe he was worried that his parents wouldn’tfind who they expected. That they wouldn’t like who they saw.

All those worries were dashed the second his mother openedthe door.

There was silence, at first, so thorough that they couldhave heard a twig snap in the distant trees. The woman in the doorway was evenshorter than Darren with achingly familiar eyes, bright blue and wide assaucers. Her hand slowly abandoned the doorknob, shaking as it rose to hermouth.

“Hey, ma…” Darren pursed his lips as they started to quiver.“I’m home.”

The nodding started small; tiny bobs of her head as shestared up at her son; but it grew more and more vigorous as tears welled up andspilled down her cheeks. She threw herself forward, arms wrapping aroundDarren’s neck, dragging him down into a crushing embrace, burying her face inhis shoulder.

“My boy,” she sobbed, hands curling into the back ofDarren’s shirt as he leaned into the hug. “My sweet, sweet boy…!”

She pulled back suddenly, surprising everyone as she smiledwide through the tears and cupped Darren’s face. A laugh followed, bright andfull and warm, before she turned her head towards the open doorway. “Jorah!Claire! Darren’s home!”

As predicted, Darren was in tears the moment his motherhugged him. He was still crying as two more figures burst through the doorway,almost getting stuck side-by-side in the narrow frame. The smaller of the twowriggled free first and launched herself at Darren, colliding hard, almostsending him toppling down the porch steps as he struggled to catch her. But he did catch her, and she shrieked indelight as he spun her around, laughing through a veil of blond curls.

“I missed you I missed you I missed you!” she chanted, grinning wide, seemingly less prone to breaking down than her olderbrother. But what she lacked in tears she made up for in sheer enthusiasm asshe giggled, wrapped her arms and legs around him like a spider, and refused tolet go. Darren didn’t seem to mind at all, holding her up effortlessly, cheeks wet but mouth smiling as he regarded the little girl.

“Maker’s breath, Claire, you’ve grown so much!” He grinnedas she puffed up, raising her chin proudly. “You’ll be taller than me, soon!”

“I hope so! You’re short.”

Laughing and shaking his head, Darren leaned down andmanaged to detach his little sister after a brief tickle-fight. Straightening,he met his father’s gaze, pale and steady as the older man hovered just past the doorway.Darren stood a bit taller, then, and Cyrus saw the result of countless hours of paraderest in the posture. Back straight, shoulders back, chin high. A faint smilecurled his lips as Ralon nudged him, and he nodded.

“Captain would be proud,” Cyrus murmured. Ralon justsmiled.

“He was always proud.”

On the porch, Darren hesitated, then extended his hand tohis father. The man seemed genuinely surprised by the gesture, raising hisbrows, glancing at his wife. The moment stretched until it bordereduncomfortable.

Then, Darren’s father clasped the extended hand and pulled hisson in for a hug.

“You may be a soldier now, son,” he said, holding tight, voice hoarse.“But you don’t have to be. Not here.”

The next thing any of them knew, they were sitting around alarge wooden table, crates pulled over as makeshift chairs, hand-sewn napkinsdraped over their laps. The words my friendshad barely left Darren’s lips before his mother had materialised by the fence andushered them all inside like a hurricane of rustic hospitality. They’d laughed andhelplessly gone along with it until they found themselves at the table, a welcoming firecrackling in the corner of the room, the small space warm and more invitingthan any inn or tavern. Shit, Cyrusthought, glancing at the timber walls and handmade curtains. This place is nicer than my father’s ever was.

“You must all be famished,” Ma declared as she trundled outof the kitchen with a large pot in her hands. She had insistedthey all call her ‘Ma’. “Well, good thing I made soup today, and lots of it!”

Claire giggled, legs swinging beneath the table, already riding high from getting to sit on a crate. “Ma has a nose for this sort of thing,” shedeclared proudly, grinning as her mother set the pot down on the table. “Whenever we get guests, she’s always already cooked for them!”

Pa, who had not insisted on the name but had responded without complaint whenRalon used it earlier, chuckled and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Tell youthe truth, she’s been making big batches for weeks now.” He reached a hand outand clasped Darren’s shoulder. “Mother’s intuition, maybe… but I think sheknew you’d be home soon.”

“Aw, ma…” Darrensniffed and mustered a wavering smile as his mother tsked, stooping to press a kiss to his head as she expertly ladledsoup.

“No tears at the table,” she chided, and then immediatelysuccumbed to a watery smile of her own, voice quavering. “M-Maker… haven’t hadto say that for a while…”

Pa chuckled warmly and stood, ushering Ma to his seat,taking over soup-duty as she settled beside Darren and wrapped his hand inhers. Ralon grinned, leaning back in his chair as he regarded the pair.

“Well… I see where he gets it from, now.”

Laughter sprang up around the table as both Ma and Pa nodded,one with a kind of fond acceptance, the other blinking rapidly against thethreat of tears. Neither offered an ounce of shame, however, which Cyrus foundoddly endearing. Ma eventually cleared her throat, voice husky.

“Yes, well, it’s like I always say…”

“… keeping it indoesn’t make you stronger,” all three Miller’s chorused in reply, thenbroke into knowing grins. Ma puffed up proudly as she patted Darren’s hand andreleasing him, turning her gaze to their guests.

“Now, I’ve heard dribs and drabs about the three of you, butletters can only say so much.” She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffing softly, mustering a smile. “Go on, dears. Tell us a bit about yourselves.”

Ralon laughed, letting go of his spoon to dab his mouth withthe napkin, his other arm still stuck in a sling for a few more weeks. “Oh wow,where to start…”

Taking their cues with grace, Ralon, Cyrus, and Lyreneintroduced themselves properly, Claire occasionally chiming in excitedly to askabout Antiva or archery when those details came to light. Ralon delighted thetable with stories of his exploits on the road – particularly the embarrassingones – before passing the conversation to Lyrene when Claire nearly choked onher soup. Lyrene didn’t speak about her clan, but she did talk about sneakingthrough towns and cities, meeting odd people, and how she’d won plenty of coinmaking bets with folks who underestimated her skill with the bow. Claireimmediately begged her for lessons, but Ma chimed in just in time with anoffering of a second helping of soup. Everyone accepted, and the plea was quickly forgotten.

When it came to Cyrus’ turn, the table fell to a politehush. A sea of blue eyes turned to regard him and he swallowed a mouthful ofsoup, feeling strangely nervous. “I, ah…” He cleared his throat, letting hisspoon rest inside his bowl. “I’m from Orlais. South Orlais, I mean. Sort of to the east. Not a bigcity or anything…”

Darren fidgeted, looking almost as uncomfortable as Cyrusfelt. That kid had too much empathy. It was one of the things Cyrus liked somuch about him. “Any family?” Pa prompted, reaching out to snag a heel of breadfrom the centre of the table, tearing it in half. The crust flaked down intohis bowl. Cyrus wet his suddenly dry lips.

“None worth mentioning.” He knew how dismissive it sounded.He hated himself for it. Darren’s family had shared so much with him; theirhome, their food, their table, their hand-made napkins; and he couldn’t evenanswer a simple question. But the truth was it hurt. Surrounded by a family as loving as the Millers just made thepain more acute. He didn’t want to think about Joustis, or the last meal he hadshared with the man. Maker knows it was nothing like the one he was having now.

“Ah.” Pa gave a short nod, seeming anything but offended ashe mopped up his soup. “Fair enough, son. We know plenty of folks who come by theseparts looking for work during harvest time. Not many of them want to talk abouthome either.”

Cyrus inhaled slowly, and then gave a grateful nod. At leastthey weren’t angry with him. Or disappointed. For whatever reason, that was thelast thing he wanted. “I didn’t spendmuch time travelling,” he continued, hoping to redeem himself somewhat. “I wenteast in a straight line, seeing as I was already close to Ferelden. Eventuallystumbled across the Conclave. Then it blew up and…” He shrugged, dipping hisspoon into the stew and leaving it submerged. “I just… went wherever my feettook me.”

A deep sigh brought Cyrus back to the present and he glancedacross at Claire, whose chin was resting on her palms. “That sounds like fun,” she said dreamily, then giggled.“My feet would take me to all sorts of great places! Up mountains. Across the sea…”

A faint smile twitched at the corner of Cyrus’ mouth. “I’msure they would.”

The meal finished, Claire scurried around dutifullycollecting bowls, hurrying them to the kitchen. Ma started washing while Pa andDarren went to fetch water from a nearby well. Lyrene, with Ma’s secretpermission, took Claire outside to give her a secret lesson on how to hold a bow. Ralon settled downby the fire, wincing as his arm started to ache. It tended to, by the end ofthe day, but the warmth would help.

Cyrus, feeling useless, found his traitorous feettaking him straight to the kitchen.

“Need any help?” he asked, and Ma jumped a little, water splashingup into her face. “Shit, sorry,” he said hurriedly, but she just laughed,swiping the water away with the corner of her sleeve.

“No, no, you’re fine! Not used to such quiet company, that’sall.” She turned and smiled, then nodded towards a stack of wet bowls. “But youcan dry, if you like. Won’t say no to a helping hand.”

Obediently, Cyrus took the small towel draped over Ma’s shoulderand began his duty, the pair working in silence for a time. Ma hummedoccasionally before catching herself, clearly not used to company in thekitchen. Or at least, not a stranger’s. Cyrus wished she’d keep going.

“Darren spoke highly you.”

Cyrus turned towards her, cocking a brow. “In those lettershe wrote?” He remembered Connors scribing them for him, the pair always speaking in hushedwhispers at the back of the barracks. The two acted more secretively than theNightingale herself on Letter Night. Ma hummed and nodded warmly, letting her hands rest in the sink for a moment, fingertips trailing in the cloudy water.

“Was a funny thing, really. He’d write about histraining. His Captain… yes, he certainly spoke about him a lot. Let’s see, what else… oh, where he’d travelled, the places he’dstayed…” She chuckled, glancing over to Cyrus. “And the squad, of course. Butyou more than anyone.”

A blush crept onto Cyrus cheeks and he looked away quicklyin an attempt to hide it. It was silly. Of course the kid wrote about him alot. He’d made Darren’s life hell at the start. 

But he spoke highly. 

“Yeah, well… Darren’s always been goodat seeing the best in people. Even when there’s not much to see.”

Cyrus set a bowl down and took up another as Ma continuedwashing, a thoughtful look on her face while she scrubbed. “I like to think,”she said eventually, “that Darren seeswhat he knows people can be. Deep down.” She smiled and pressed one damp fingerto the centre of Cyrus’ chest, tapping twice. “In here.”

Cyrus blinked, then snorted as Ma turned back to thesink. “Yeah. Maybe that’s it.”

“It isn’t about seeing the best in people, you know.” She continued asthough he hadn’t spoken, clearly caught up in her own thoughts. “No one can betheir best all the time, after all. Expecting that… well, it’s just silly. But my Darren…” Shepaused again, a half-washed bowl held loosely in her hands. “Well, he’s alwaysbeen curious. Always liked finding things out for himself. I suppose that’sjust how he is with people, too.”

“It’s good,” Cyrus agreed quietly, stacking a bowl andtaking another. “He was probably the first person who didn’t just… hate me.”

Ma’s brows rose at that and there was a muted clunk as she set down the bowl she had beenworking on. “Well… that’s certainly something.” She turned, wiping her hands on her apron, giving Cyrusher complete, undivided attention. It was a little unnerving. “What makes yousay something like that, dear?”

Cyrus shrugged, eyes fixed on the bowl, suddenly paranoidthat he would drop it. “I’m… look, I’m not the easiest person to get alongwith. I know it. Everyone else knew it. Darren was just the only one who didn’t seemto give a shit.”

Ma regarded Cyrus for a long, quiet moment. Then she reachedout, gently taking the bowl out of Cyrus’ hands and setting it on the table. Itwas still wet. He didn’t understand.

“You’ll find that’s something we have in common in thisfamily,” she said, smiling up at him. Maker, she was short. “We’re stubborn. Like to make our own mindsup about people.“ She tapped the side of her head for emphasis and Cyruschuckled, amused but not entirely sure what to make of the conversation. 

Macleared it up quickly, not one to dance around a subject.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk aboutyour family…” Cyrus flinched, but suddenly found his hand in Ma’s, claspedcomfortingly between her rough palms. “Now, don’t fret, dear. I’m not asking you to.Like Pa said, we get all sorts coming through here. We know not to pry.”

“Thank you,” was all Cyrus managed in response, his throatfeeling strangely dry. Like he’d been shouting. He cleared it, but thesensation just wouldn’t go away.

Ma nodded. Her hands were nice. Warm. “I don’t know what you haveplanned. If you’re heading off with your friends or finding your own way. Butwhatever you decide…” She squeezed gently, meeting Cyrus’ eyes, her ownsurprisingly glassy. “You ever need anything. You ever run into trouble, or feellonely, or just want a place to stay… well, you come right here. Understand?”

Cyrus swore he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.His throat ached, too tight to form words, so he just nodded, the movementgrowing more rapid as Ma held his hand in hers and refused to let go until shewas certain he understood. Eventually, Cyrus managed to murmur a few hoarse words.

“What about…?”

“Pa?” Ma succumbed to a sniffling laugh as she patted his hand. “Itwas his idea, dear. Told me to bring it up tonight if I got the chance.”

Something in Cyrus gave out in that moment, like a knot that’sanchor thread had been found and unravelled in one sharp tug. His breathhitched but before he even had a chance to turn away, Ma pulled him down into asoft, warm hug, her arms wrapping around him, her hand cradling the back of hishead as she held him close.

And for once, Cyrus didn’t resist.

He buried his face in her shoulder, the occasional sobwracking his body as she made soothing sounds and stroked his hair. It waspathetic – a part of him was certain of that – but the shame of it was non-existentbecause Ma was crying too and that meant it must be okay.

“Shhh…” Ma hushed through her own shivering sobs as Cyrusmumbled half-formed apologies into her shirt. “It’s alright, dear. You’realright…”

He wasn’t sure how long it took for him to calm down, onlythat Ma held him patiently until he found the strength to pull away. Steppingback, he sagged against the bench, feeling utterly exhausted but at the sametime… lighter. Like he’d finally let go of something that had been weighing himdown for as long as he could remember. Ma fussed about, offering him a cloth towipe his face and filling a cup of water, using the corner of her apron to dabher own eyes as she held it out to Cyrus. He managed awavering smile, taking it with a murmur of thanks. After a few hesitant sips, hemanaged to find his voice.

“You know, I always wondered what made the kid so special.” He sniffedand gave a rough laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Coming here… shit, it makes a lot of sense.”

Ma immediately teared up again, and this time it was Cyruswho hurried forward with the cloth, pressing it into her hands as she laughed andcried all at once, fanning her face frantically as though that would somehow help. Both of them knew how ridiculous they must seem, but neither could bring themselves to care. Cyrus just fetched her a drink and theyboth eventually settled against the counter, the washing up abandoned for thetime, the tears and sniffling slowly subsiding as they sipped and stared outthe kitchen window. It was a still, quiet night. In the distance, they could make outthe shapes of Pa and Darren wandering back from the well. A dog trotted dutifully besidethem, fluffy tail wagging. That must be Minty.

“So…” Ma’s voice summoned Cyrus back to the kitchen. She waswatching him, a fond look on her face even though they’d only just met. “Have you decided?”

Cyrus frowned slightly, glancing at the cup in his hands. Heknew Ralon and Lyrene weren’t going to stay for long. That was fair,considering they’d all dropped by unannounced. While the Millers wouldnever admit it, feeding three extra people every night wouldn’t exactly be easy. Besides, they deserved some quality time with their son without having to worry about guests.

“I don’t know,” he confessed quietly. “Travelling… seeingmore of Thedas… it’s something I’ve always wanted to do, but going alone just…”He shook his head. “It’s hard.”

Ma nodded understandingly, reaching out to pat his arm. “The world’s a scary place, sometimes. Even here, we get tastes of itevery now and then.” Her mouth curved into a reassuring smile. “But what about yourfriends, hmm? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I know. And they’ve offered. It’s just…” Cyrus chewed onhis bottom lip, not entirely sure how to say what he felt. “I feel like I’ve beenrunning. For a really long time. I’m just…”

“Scared this will feel like running, too?”

“Yeah.”

Ma’s expression was soft, but her voice was firm when shespoke. “Well, dear… there’s only one way to find out something like that. But—” Cyrus had opened his mouth toargue but Ma predicted it and raced ahead. —“If youfind it’s not what you need, or even just not what you’d hoped, you will alwaysbe welcome here. Doesn’t matter if it happens next week or five years from now.”

And just like that, Cyrus’ decision was made. Findinghimself completely out of words, he fixed Ma with a grateful look and she just smiled,reaching up to pat him gently on the cheek. Nothing more needed to be said onthe matter, so she let her hand drop and levered herself off the bench, returning to the sink.Cyrus moved silently into place beside her, towel already in hand, reaching for another bowl. He wanted tolaugh. To cry. To leap about then collapse in a giddy heap like the child he’dnever had a chance to be.

But there was one thing he knew for certain, standing there drying bowls beside Ma, listening to the sounds of Darren and his father returning andthe padding of paws on timber.

He would never have to run again.