Part 3 of 'Alls Well that Ends Well'
"I'm telling you, we have to keep heading east."
"I see, and I should listen to you in regards to this why?"
"I won't dignify that with an answer. I know where I am going and I don't think that..."
"Oh just give me the fucking map, Nathaniel, before I beat you to death with it."
This had been going on for a while. Anders trod behind the bickering pair with Justice at his side, the night sky alight above them with flickering stars. The landscape around them was obscured by the enshrouding darkness and only their immediate surroundings were visible, thanks to Anders' summoned orb of light. The mage rubbed at his exposed upper arms beneath his heavy traveling cloak and continued to feel miserable. This wouldn't be the first time he would be jealous of Velanna, Oghren and Sigrun staying behind at the Keep while they trekked out around the countryside. The rather, considering the circumstances, humorously matter-of-fact words which were suddenly spoken did, however, produce the smallest of smiles.
"It would seem that we are truly lost," Justice said as if he were simply noting that it was a little chilly out.
"Thank you, Warden Obvious," Anders said facetiously with a harsh sigh.
"To whom are you referring?" Anders looked to his left as Justice queried him, unable to stop the small laugh at the spirit's sincere confusion.
"And just what the fuck are you two laughing about back there?" Cousland interrupted tersely.
The atmosphere, which had momentarily lightened, once more crashed back to morose as their leader imposed his own mood upon the party. Anders' face fell and he resumed rubbing at his arms as they walked, hoping to keep the goose bumps at bay.
They had been lost, as Justice put it, for at least five or so hours, if not longer. Anders hadn't really been keeping track, mainly because he'd had other thoughts to occupy his mind as they walked. Following their trail hadn't been a main priority because he wasn't in charge of guiding them back to the Keep. No, that would be Nathaniel Howe who, on being questioned repeatedly by Cousland as they had trekked over grass and hill and river, had vehemently assured them all that he was an excellent tracker and could easily find his way home with his eyes closed. He had appeared to want to show off, as far as Anders was concerned, or maybe even impress Cousland.
Yet, now, his surety in his abilities was coming off more as a boast than any form of truth. I just want to get back to my measly bed and sleep, Anders thought angrily, my feet hurt, my back hurts, my fingers are cold and I'm bloody hungry. He would have aired his grievances out loud if it wouldn't have resulted in Cousland verbally assaulting him. Or perhaps physically if he was in a foul enough mood. As it was their Commander was certainly the least happy member of their party. Perhaps, Anders had considered, it was to do with the fact that it was Cousland's fault in the first place that Nathaniel had become their guide. It had been an interesting display, watching the Commander and Nathaniel interact. Ever since the Amaranthine incident, as Anders liked to call it if only to make Nathaniel grind his teeth, the two had been warily affable towards each other. Especially on Nathaniel's part, who seemed to have spent the last few months seemingly conflicted about his growing friendship with Cousland, yet still undercut by his conscious dislike. Anders had caught Nathaniel staring at Cousland many times before, with hatred sparking in his eyes, yet recently that stare had changed. Anders just took it for what it was and hoped for the best.
So Cousland had given Nathaniel the map in good faith and now Nathaniel had gotten them lost. So, essentially, Cousland had gotten them lost. Also, as an added bonus, their wary affability had dissolved with unsurprising swiftness as the night drew in, the chill air grew colder and the Keep continued to be nowhere in sight.
"Right!"
The one word was enough of an indication. Anders didn't need any further explanation as Cousland let out the strong exclamation and stopped walking. Instead the mage took two steps forwards in order to put himself next to the Commander, whom Nathaniel was looking at with a confused, angry frown and Justice with a blank stare, and said:
"I'll find us somewhere to sleep."
It wasn't ideal, mainly because he really was very tired and, as such, his mana reserves were rather low which didn't allow him to send his orb light spell very far afield. This meant that they all had to crowd together as they walked out across what appeared to be a moor of some kind towards what appeared to be the dark, vague silhouette of a hill. Maybe. Anders didn't know anymore. When they finally came across five large boulders strewn in an odd horseshoe shape Cousland was the first to call it as a suitable camping spot. In Anders' eyes it wasn't any more suitable than the open ground they had been walking over for hours but he wasn't about to argue. It would do.
"We shall require fire," Justice said as Cousland dumped his heavy pack onto the ground and Nathaniel stood beside one of the boulders, furiously studying the map in his hands, "you all appear to be rather cold."
"You don't fucking say," Cousland muttered out as he violently opened his pack with jerky motions, "Anders, you stay here with Howe. Justice, you're with me. Just keep that light burning or we won't be able to find our way back to you."
That was that. Anders knew exactly why Cousland had left Nathaniel here with him. The reason was obvious enough, yet, as if to cement it, the way he had called him 'Howe' was certainly not flattering. Still, Anders himself wasn't best pleased with Nathaniel either, which he made clear as soon as Cousland and Justice had shifted out into the surrounding dark.
"Well, well, "I was reading maps from the age of four"," Anders adjusted his voice accordingly, lowering the pitch and forcing the air roughly through his throat, "wasn't that what you said? "Of course we have to go through that forest, because I'm a pretentious arsehole who won't let anyone else see the effing map"."
"I don't remember saying that," Nathaniel finally responded, even though he didn't dignify Anders with a glance, instead keeping his eyes on the map in his hands as he leaned against one of the towering boulders and tilted it towards Anders' flickering light source.
"No but that's what you sounded like," Anders said in annoyance, "I was going to have venison for dinner, Nathanial, Gharen caught a deer yesterday and I was getting some! It was my steak; someone else at Vigils Keep is right now having my steak! I hope you're happy with yourself. Honestly? You're lucky I don't turn you into a toad."
"You can't turn me into a toad, Anders," Nathaniel said with a sigh, sounding utterly unrepentant.
"I could turn you into a toad if I wanted to," Anders groused, "or maybe set you on fire while trying."
"I'd rather you didn't," Nathaniel replied.
Conversation ran dry. Anders gently placed his pack down onto the ground before he sat down and leaned his back against the large rock behind him. The orb of light he had summoned was becoming irritating, mainly because of the itch it was causing on the back of his neck just to sustain it. Thankfully the small fluffy ball he retrieved from the pack was an adequate distraction. Ser Pounce-a-lot looked tired and grumpy but allowed Anders to give him a small stroke before curling up in the mage's arms and going back to sleep. Anders simply enjoyed the soft, warm fur against his cold skin.
"Did you really have to bring that creature?" Nathaniel asked, his tone conspicuously dry and haughty; Anders had noticed that whenever Howe became defensive the more noble his bearing became, and not in a good way.
"I don't know," Anders said facetiously, "did you really have to be so shit at reading maps?"
"I don't know why I bother," Nathaniel muttered.
"You know why he's so angry," Anders said with a shake of his head, looking at Nathaniel out of the corner of his eye as he ran his numb fingers over Pounce's fur, "the King is due at the Keep first thing tomorrow. If the Commander isn't back for that visit you'll..."
"Be a dead man, yes I know," Nathaniel said agitatedly and with a noticeable amount of vitriol.
Sometimes it was difficult for Anders to read Howe; whenever he thought he had the man pegged, the rogue would do something minutely odd that would throw Anders' perceptions on a slant. Nathaniel's seeming dislike of King Alastair, which had only become entirely apparent in the last few weeks, was something Anders was now mildly interested in. Yet, at that moment, when he was cold, hungry and immeasurably angry with Howe himself, was not the time to pry.
He took second watch, mainly because Justice insisted on taking first. He didn't get much sleep, even with Pounce snuggled against his chest for warmth. When he felt that he'd been lying staring at the flickering fire for long enough he stood up, carried the kitten to where Justice sat and told him to get some rest.
It was a long wait, staring at the flickering flames and, every now and then, throwing some of the firewood into the blaze to keep it stoked. The stars were obscured by thick banks of dark cloud and the moon was merely a pale shimmer, sometimes visible but mainly hidden. The world seemed to have come to a standstill, everything cold and dark. Anders wasn't sure where they were but, at that moment in time, it didn't seem to truly matter. They were lost in more ways than one, as far as he was concerned.
"You'll get to meet Alastair tomorrow, kitten," Anders murmured to the grouchy ball of fluff in his arms, "I'm sure you'll get along. He seems like a cat person."
All joking aside, Anders was sure he relished the King's visits as much as Nathaniel seemed to. Which seemed unnecessarily cruel considering the circumstances, yet it wasn't for selfish reasons. Lien Cousland may have been raised up by his troops as an untouchable warrior, a god among men, yet Anders knew better. Cousland was a man, a truly remarkable man, but a man nonetheless. Alastair's brief visits, no matter how happy they made the Commander at the time, only served to leave him a little hollow afterwards. It was as if each visit was a brief glimpse into a simpler life Cousland wished he could have, a love he'd striven for through war only to lose it to bureaucracy. Or so Anders thought it might be, not that Cousland had ever told him as such. It just seemed a reasonable assessment, considering Anders was there to see the change in Cousland's demeanour, the change in his voice, even in his eyes, every times it happened.
"Get some sleep, I'll take the next watch," came a deep, rough voice from behind him which made Anders start badly.
"By the Maker, Nathaniel!" Anders admonished as he turned and looked over his shoulder at a rather grumpy looking Howe, "Why would you sneak up on the person standing guard? Do you want a fireball to the face?"
"Not particularly," Howe said dismissively as he walked up to the fire an sat on a well placed, flat rock, sighing and reaching his hands out towards the fire, "although I suppose it would warm me up."
"You can't complain," Anders said with a deadpan look, "this is all your fault after all."
"Yes, yes," Nathaniel said tersely, "as I am well aware. Now, if you don't have anything better to do than state the bloody obvious how about you go and get some sleep?"
Anders would have argued further if he had felt inclined to. Instead he felt tired and sore, thus sleep seemed the best option overall. He left Nathaniel staring irritably into the fire and curled up with Pounce under the thick pelt of his fur blanket.
He wasn't truly sure how much later it was, having been asleep he had no idea as to the passage of time. It was still dark, that much he knew, when he was awoken by the movement behind him. Anders blinked blearily and shivered as the cold rushed in against his back before a solid, comfortable weight pressed tightly against him. An arm slid over his waist and the person behind him took a moment to make themselves comfortable.
Anders sighed.
"Piss off Nathaniel, I'm not in the mood," he grumbled sleepily.
"Don't think so lowly of me," Howe's breath was hot against Anders' neck as he replied, "or so highly of yourself. It's cold, that is all."
"I'm sure," Anders said facetiously.
"Just go to sleep, mage," Nathaniel groused, the hand at his waist tightly grabbing at the material of Anders' robes before hauling back roughly, pulling their bodies flush against each other.
"Then stop manhandling me and I will," Anders replied, "and you can take your hand back, thank you very much."
It was testament to Howe's integrity, and perhaps even to his development since they had met, that he did retract his hand, placing it in between their pressed bodies for warmth. Anders let out a long sigh and allowed himself to drift to sleep, Nathaniel's soft breathing a drowsy lullaby by his ear. The feeling of someone sleeping at his back was comforting at least, no matter how much he complained. It made him think back to simpler times. Karl's sleepy breathing when he'd sneaked into Anders' bed during the night. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he drifted off.
It was lucky for Nathaniel's hide, as far as Anders was concerned, that he managed to navigate them home in the light of the dawn. It had begun to rain, as if only to make the situation worse. Only he and Justice seemed willing to talk and, even then, Anders wasn't exactly thrilled about the topic the spirit had chosen.
"I understand that you...struggle against your oppression mage," Justice's opaque eyes didn't meet his as they walked back towards Vigil's Keep, the rain blown into their faces irritatingly by the wind.
"I avoid my oppression," Anders said sarcastically as he pulled his travelling cloak tighter around him, "that's not quite the same thing, is it."
"Then why do you not strike a blow against your oppressors?" Justice finally looked at him, his face stern, "Ensure they can do this to no one else?"
"Because it sounds difficult?" Anders said back blithely.
"Apathy is a weakness," Justice said back so reasonably that Anders would have throttled him if he'd thought it would make any difference.
"So is death," Anders sing-songed, "I'm just saying!"
That had appeared to sufficiently outrage Justice to the point that he stopped talking. Anders was just glad that he didn't have to continue the conversation at all. He had the feeling Justice wouldn't let it go for long but he would escape it as long as he could.
As soon as they had returned to the Keep Cousland had ordered a routine inspection to be prepared for and then, as usual, ran a quick check himself of all the chores he'd scheduled to be done the night before. The stables were cleaned and scrubbed, an inventory of the armoury was taken and the weapons in top condition, sharpened and shined, the kitchens were cleaned and stocked for the banquet that night, the King's quarters were aired and fresh linen washed and dried for the bed, the hall was cleared and set up for the night's entertainment, extra wood had been chopped for the fires, the guardsmen had polished their armour to a shine that rivalled the ice on the windows, and of course Cousland made sure it had all been done.
"He works too hard," Velanna said as she and Anders stood in the courtyard, shivering with the cold, waiting with the welcome party for the King's imminent arrival, "so much effort for so little return."
"He's making the most of what he's got," Anders shrugged, watching Cousland as he, in turn, watched the guard on lookout, high on the wall of the Keep. Pounce crawled out of Anders' hands and up onto his shoulder, pawing at the feathers there, "can't really blame him for that. Pounce stop that!"
"I can when it means I have to freeze my arse off out here, waiting for a man I care nothing for to turn up and say 'well done' for something I didn't do," the elf said grouchily, "and keep that animal away from me will you?
"I'm starting to think no one round here likes the King's visits," Anders laughed quietly as he tickled under the kitten's chin and listened to him purr.
Everyone had become jaded to the idea of seeing a King, and jaded to the idea of another Royal visit. Yet the effort they put into their work, of making each visit a spectacular one, was testament to their love for their Commander more than anything else, as far as Anders was concerned. In the end all the extra effort and the freezing cold didn't matter and Anders couldn't help but smile, after Alastair arrived, gave them all a wave and some silly little speech, when he looked over to Cousland and confirmed that he was happy. He rarely saw the man truly happy anymore.
The day passed quickly and, as the sun set, the King's hunting party returned. Cousland always hated doing the things that were expected of him, such as taking the King and his retainers hunting every visit, but it was basically a tradition now to keep up the rouse. It was the night that was always far more fun, as far as Anders was concerned. Roaring fires, music in the hall and all the food anyone could want to eat. Roasted chickens and beef, fresh bread and berries, roasted vegetables with herbs, ale and spirits. Everything was better when they were all together, Anders knew it as he looked around the hall, watching his comrades laugh and be merry. He caught sight of Cousland and Alastair, sat next to each other within the fray; the Commander leaned in to whisper something to the King which had Alastair grinning like an idiot.
It was always good while it lasted, Anders thought with a hint of sadness.
"What are you doing?"
He couldn't help but ask, considering the odd circumstances. It was late, the fires were burnt low and the mainstay of the troops had headed to the barracks hours ago, only the few very drunk or very stubborn still lounging in the main hall singing dirty songs and finishing off the alcohol. Anders found he didn't have the stamina, not after spending last night sleeping on the ground in the cold. All he wanted was his nice soft bed in his nice, what would be cosy, room once he had set the fire. He had been looking forward to it so much that he almost missed the sight that had him exclaim his confusion in the first place. He had nearly walked past the corridor which led down to the Commander's quarters without seeing his friend standing there.
Nathaniel Howe was not listening to him. Anders frowned, a little unsteady from the free flowing alcohol which he had taken his fair share of and the exhaustion from the night before, but he changed his route nonetheless. The torches flickered in a slight, chill breeze from a nearby window as Anders walked down the corridor towards Howe, trying to focus on his friend's rather pensive expression. Howe stood with his hand upon the heavy wooden door of Cousland's quarters, his eyes unreadable.
"Hey, Nathaniel," Anders said as he came closer, "are you ignoring me on purpose or are..."
The sounds stopped him talking, even as he continued to move forwards. Unmistakable, and yet Anders was still confused even as he walked right to Howe's side. The sound of two people consumed in passion, their muffled cries only audible through the door prised ajar by Howe's hand. Anders reached up to take hold of Nathaniel's shoulder as the situation slowly sunk in through his drink addled mind and only made him all the more baffled. It was Nathaniel's next action which made him change his plan; when Howe moved forwards, his eyes set, to push the door open further, that was when Anders panicked and ended up lunging forwards to grab his arm and pull him unsteadily away from the door.
"Oi, are you mad..?" Anders started in disbelief, even as a pair of pale, silver eyes latched onto him as if he were some sort of demon come to haunt him.
Nathaniel wrenched his arm from Anders' grasp, making the mage stumble and catch himself against the wall. He heard the door shut with a soft thump and looked around. Before he could get his bearings Anders felt his right wrist clasped in an indelible grasp and he was being pulled across the stone floor, tripping to keep up.
"Stop," he managed to gasp out, "hey Nathaniel, what..?"
Then there was a lightheaded feeling of being swung round, his feet tripping over each other as he found the wall rushing up to meet his back, hitting him hard, his neck snapping back and cracking his head against the solid stone. He let out a cry, muffled only when his lips were suddenly covered by another's. Anders reached up, dizzily, and tried to push Howe away, even as the archer insistently smothered him against the wall and pushed his tongue into Anders' mouth. When he did manage to push the man bodily from him, it was only to find that Howe had moved back voluntarily and that he had once more taken hold of Anders' arm. He found himself dragged along the corridor in a bleary, confused rage before being pulled through a door into a fire lit room, the change in temperature from cold to warm making his head spin.
"Well that was unpleasant," Anders mumbled as he turned to face Nathaniel, watching as the man closed the door behind him, his voice rising as his anger won out over his addled brain, "what do you think you're doing!? I'm not-mmph!"
Once more he was cut off by a kiss, this one less painful than before yet no less dominating. Nathaniel pulled them together roughly, his arms twined about Anders, crushing him close. Anders squirmed in the hold but could not gain any leverage against the incensed man. He found himself stumbling as Howe walked him backwards across the room, tripping and falling as his calves hit something behind him. Thankfully, as far as he was concerned, he fell against something soft. Anders fumbled himself up onto his side, realising it was a well made bed he had fallen onto, looking up over his shoulder as Nathaniel looked down at him, his eyes lust dark yet hesitant.
"Seriously?" Anders asked, shaking his head and wincing at the pain, "You have such a way with people, don't you."
"I'm...I mean..." Nathaniel started hesitantly, his voice rough.
"Don't start," Anders groused as he managed to turn himself over and lay on his back, willing away the fogginess in his head, "you know you're usually so predictable. You've been so bloody calm and reticent lately that I thought you'd gotten over yourself. Seems not."
"That's hardly fair," Nathaniel fired back, actually surprising Anders a little; the mage looked up into the sincere face of a man he considered one of his closest friends and found he was a little lost for words, "that you think me so capricious. You think I have no feelings at all? That I am simply some impulsive brat who was never taught his lesson?"
"I never said that," Anders said, pushing himself up into a sitting position and reaching up to let out a soft glow of healing magic against the back of his skull, pulling out the twine from his hair and letting his locks fall loose over his shoulders, relieving the ache somewhat. He sighed and shook his head when Nathaniel sat down heavily on the bed beside him, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice as he looked to the man beside him, "I just think it's more polite to ask first, that's all."
"Don't demean me, Anders," Nathaniel said, his shoulders tense and his words hot with repressed emotion; the smirk fell away from Anders' lips, replaced by feeling somewhat guilty for having made the man more upset. How did this happen, Anders thought as he reached out and tentatively patted Howe on the shoulder, me feeling sorry for him after what he just pulled?
"But it's what I do," Anders said with a small laugh, trying once more for levity.
"Yes, I've gathered that much," Howe said gravely.
"Well now who's being insulting?" Anders said with a snort, pulling his hand back and looking to the fire.
Which was when he was taken by surprise once more. Howe was being distinctly unpredictable tonight, Anders thought as his chin was taken gently in calloused fingers and he was turned back to look into silver eyes. The three words which left Nathaniel's mouth were the last three Anders would ever have expected.
"Then permit me," Howe said.
"...What?" he found himself asking dumbly.
"I'm asking for your permission," Howe reiterated with slight irritation, his hand sliding down to the side of Anders' neck.
"Well, I gathered that but..." Anders stopped, shaking his head and smiling at the absurdity of the situation; why can't anything be simple? He wondered.
"I told you not to mock me," Nathaniel said tightly, taking his hand back and regarding Anders with haughty disdain, "you and him both, just the same..."
It was his turn to take Howe off guard. Anders leaned in and silenced the man with a chaste kiss against his lips. Howe let out a brief sound of surprise, stalling for all of a few seconds before giving in and leaning into the kiss. Anders wondered what on earth had happened in the last half an hour or so that had led him here instead of his own room, his own bed, for a night of uninterrupted sleep and a bright morning just like any other. He pulled back and smiled genuinely at Howe's astonishment. It seemed to be enough to pull the man from his daze, enough to have him lean forwards purposefully and pull Anders to him roughly.
"You know you're charming when you want to be," Anders murmured out as Nathaniel leaned down to kiss at his neck, "aren't you."
"Can't you let that fool mouth of yours be silent for just one minute?" Nathaniel asked gruffly, pulling back only to lean in once more and capture his lips in a searing kiss.
Things escalated from there at a rate Anders had not expected. Not that ne was entirely unhappy about it, just that, once more, it was unanticipated. Nathaniel had pushed him down against the bed, his nimble fingers making short work of the complicated trappings of Anders' robes. The air in the room was warmer than outside in the halls of the Keep yet still felt chilled against his warm skin, making him shiver with both cold and need as Nathaniel efficiently undressed him.
"Not wasting any time, are you?" Anders asked through panted breaths as Nathaniel pushed his hand down into Anders trousers, took hold of him and began working him quickly towards hardness.
"What did I ask you?" Nathaniel said with impatience; yet, despite Howe's peevish temperament, Anders simply laughed and leaned up to kiss him.
It had spiralled from there. One minute there were kisses, then touches, then skin against skin and then, before Anders knew it, they were under the thick blankets going at it as if the world were about to end. He clung to Howe desperately, unable to stop his passionate cries, only muffled when Nathaniel saw fit to plunge his tongue into Anders' mouth just as he ravaged the rest of the mage's body. What Nathaniel had lacked in experience, as far as Anders could tell, he had made up for with zeal. There had been a few fumbling moments where Howe had not seemed to know what to do next, despite his wild lust, to which Anders had been unable to keep a straight face. Howe had let out terse growls in the face of Anders' mirth but the mage had smoothed the anger away with warm kisses and a slow, guiding hand. The frustration Nathaniel felt was clearly lost as soon as Anders showed him the way forwards. It was as Howe pushed inside of him, silencing Anders' moans of pain and pleasure with his own lips, that Anders seemed to realise the mix of determination and desperation in the man's actions.
He fumbled blindly for Nathaniel's hand and, as they met, their fingers twined together. Nathaniel's head was buried against Anders' neck and the mage closed his eyes and allowed the moment to consume him. It had been such a long time since he had felt this close to someone. It wasn't love, he knew that neither of them harboured such feelings for the other, but the trust and the closeness was enough for him, enough to have this mean more than a simple screw in the dark for pleasure alone. It had been so long since he had felt it.
"Ah, Cousland," Nathaniel growled as he came, bucking his hips and clinging to Anders as if his life depended on it, "yes."
If it hadn't been for the closeness of Howe's mouth to his ear Anders thought he might have missed it. As it was he only managed to give Howe a few seconds of respite, lying atop him breathless, before the man found himself on the floor.
"Ah! What are you doing?" Nathaniel cried out as Anders stood from the bed and hauled him from the floor, "Anders!"
"Shut up," Anders said with tight fury, not raising his voice as he hauled the naked man to the doorway, "just shut your bloody mouth."
"I didn't mean to..." Nathaniel found himself thrown out of the now open door, turning with a look of shock as Anders stared at him coldly, trying to keep his dignity whilst shivering from the freezing air, "it was a mistake!"
"You're too right it was," Anders said, unable to truly keep up the anger in the face of the looming truth of it all, "I already told you I wouldn't be some proxy fuck for your repression."
With that he slammed the door shut and, not having the key to what he could only assume was Nathaniel's own quarters, he froze the lock to the doorframe with a quick, localised ice spell. Anders turned on his heel and returned to the bed, ignoring the banging on the door, the pleas for clothes and the sorry excuses. The bed was cold and damp when he slid back between the sheets but Anders didn't care. Eventually the banging stopped and, after a few minutes, Anders fell asleep, all the while shifting between hating Nathaniel and hating himself for being such a fool.
"No, he's staying another day," Cousland told him the next morning as Anders sorted the roster on the desk in front of him, scoring out names and moving them around to fit the tight schedule he wanted to keep for the mages here at the Keep; Anders looked up momentarily at Cousland's smiling face and sighed, "turns out there isn't anything truly pressing he needs to attend to back in Denerim until the end of the week, so, well, yes. I guess I am a good negotiator after all."
"If 'negotiating' is what you want to call it," Anders shrugged, pasting on a smile when Cousland shoved him with a muttered 'git' under his breath, "so do you need anything else done if the King is prolonging his stay? I know you were supposed to run the patrol out to Westhill later today."
"That's alright, Andrew can do it," Cousland said with a wave of his hand, "that boy's been champing at the bit to get the chance at his own command. I think he'll appreciate the experience and, truthfully, I'd like to see how he handles it."
"Look at who you're calling 'boy'," Anders chuckled as he put the feather quill back into the ink pot, "Andrew's three years older than you."
"Yes, well," Cousland said, "can't help it if you all seem young to me. I don't call you 'boy', do I?"
"Only because you know you'd get a smack if you did," Anders said.
"That's borderline treasonous you know," Cousland said humorously, "and also true. Oh! Now that you mention it there is something you could do for me."
"Hmm?" Anders asked, only half listening as he blew onto the parchment to dry the ink faster.
"I'm supposed to be receiving some new orders from Weisshaupt sometime soon, something about the First Warden summoning us all North for something important before the end of the year, if the Darkspawn don't kill us all before then that is," Cousland said picking up one of the heavy metal seals from the desk Anders was working at and twiddling it in his fingers, "only I haven't heard anything as of yet. Could you write a quick note to Renton and send it up to him from the rookery? He should know what's going on."
"Really? You need me to do that for you?" Anders said with a look that matched his words.
"Well, you did ask," Cousland said with a quick smile, "also I've had word we're being sent a new recruit. A volunteer, can you believe it."
"Actually no," Anders said with a snort, pulling out another sheet of mottled parchment from the small store they kept, "normally you have to drag them here."
"That's what I said," Cousland replied, "apparently the Chantry breeds them with the unstable notion to be willing to die nowadays."
"Did you say..? Oh wonderful," Anders said, lighting a candle with his hand, ready to melt the wax for the seal; he looked to Cousland and saw the understanding in the man's eyes, "a templar, really? Do we take vermin now?"
"Anders," Cousland sighed, "they'll no longer be a templar as soon as they've gone through the Joining. Anyway, think on the bright side, they might never make it through that."
"One can always hope," Anders muttered, "and even if they do, I'm not looking after them."
"The last place I'd put them is in your regiment," Cousland said as if he thought that would be obvious, "but anyway, I have to be off, got things to do. You know, important things. Alastair and I are off to sneak out of the Keep alone without an escort."
"Honestly, you two are like a pair of hormonal teenagers," Anders shook his head and rolled up the roster in his hands, putting it out of the way as he prepared to write Cousland's letter.
"And why not!" Cousland said, spreading his arms as he walked to the doorway, turning back to Anders as he continued, "I heard that even Howe was seen streaking through the corridors last night. The hormones must be contagious, eh?"
He left with a wink that made Anders feel like shit. It was difficult to watch someone else so happy for all the reasons you wished you could be happy too. It wasn't even true jealousy. He did not resent his Commander his fleeting happiness, in fact he still felt bad, deep down, that Cousland was so overjoyed at the prospect of 'one more day'. Who should have to be so giddy at the thought of one more day with the person you loved?
And who should have to feel that it's enough just to have trust, not to even have that love, just because you think you'll never be allowed it?
He wrote the note and took it to the rookery. It was cold and quiet. Anders wasn't sure but he thought he could smell snow on the air. He stroked the sleek feathers of the hawk as it sat perched upon his arm, giving the bird a small morsel of cooked beef that he had brought with him. It regarded him with its sharp eyes, moving its head in swift jerks as he carried it to the window. Anders found himself watching as the graceful animal flew out against the grey sky. He leaned back against the cold stone of the windowsill and sighed.
"How long are you going to stand there like a mute?" Anders asked, unable to summon any fight in his tone.
The rogue was normally silent as the grave, invisible when he wanted to be. Which only led Anders to know that Nathaniel had wanted to be heard. Fucking coward, Anders wanted to call him. He had to remind himself that he didn't care. It made him feel no better, despite accepting it.
"As long as it took you to notice me," Nathaniel said once he had slipped from the shadows and stood, watching him, from the top of the spiral staircase.
"I have no time for your cryptic nonsense," Anders said, folding his arms, "I have things to be doing, so make it quick."
"Well, this is unexpected," Nathaniel said with a chuff of breath, emerging from his mouth like a puff of white wool, "you allowing me to explain myself."
"Who said I wanted to hear your excuses?" Anders said, letting out a short tut of derision.
"...Perhaps that was presumptuous of me," Nathaniel said waspishly after a few moment's silence, "then I can only ask that you keep this to yourself."
"You can only ask," Anders repeated to himself, shaking his head, "you really don't have a clue, do you? What do you think I am, some sort of jilted lover? All this time you've been snarking at him and threatening him and it's been because you wanted to screw him, is that it? I told you that you shouldn't hate him, Nathaniel, not that you should fall for him! What's wrong with you? In case you hadn't noticed the man you seem so misguidedly and bizarrely smitten with is perfectly happy already. Even if his own happiness is just as misguided as you are."
"Now who sounds bitter," Nathaniel shot back, his expression stony.
"I think I have every right to be," Anders spat, hating that it was enough to give away his own turmoil; Nathaniel watched him warily for a moment before looking away. Anders laughed acidly, looking back to the grey sky outside, "it's funny, you know? Everyone always acts as if I'm some sort of unfeeling creature who is only interested in the self gratification he can get right in front of his face. We all have our masks but it seems I've allowed mine to fool you all far more than I maybe meant to. Is that what I am? Is that all I've become? You think we're that different, do you?"
The silence was telling, yet whether it spoke of Nathaniel's agreement or his cowardice Anders didn't know. In truth he wasn't sure he wanted to know anymore. Yet he kept talking. What are you trying to prove? he wondered dismally.
"Mages learn quicker than most how dangerous it is to fall in love," he said, "yet we all do it anyway, like idiots. It makes us vulnerable, weak to the will of others. Yet I did it anyway. He's gone now but I did it anyway. Stupid really. I..."
Shut up, just shut up already, he told himself. What's the matter with you, he doesn't care, who would care? Karl would, his conscience supplied unhelpfully. Yes, well Karl isn't here, is he. He's been moved to Kirkwall because of you and you're probably never going to see him again. He felt cold suddenly, not just from the outside. He crossed his arms tighter and felt the urge to leave. Nathaniel did not stop him as he brushed past the silent man and hurried down the steps.