The bright sunlight and radiant colors of the lords' and ladies' tents seemed dull and lost their luster. Ana had little energy yet spent her nights crying in her cot. For the first couple days, she couldn't summon the energy to get out of bed and spent her days lying there, staring up at the canvas. Had it not been for Fergus' concerned urging to leave the tent, she would have remained there to wallow in her pain. Even the return of Much did little to improve her mood.

For the 3rd time today, a wave of nausea washed over her. Regardless of having been out in the chantry tent all morning, she made no effort to go to the mess hall to eat for fear of embarrassing herself by vomiting in front of servants and soldiers. With no food in her stomach, she expels bile as she dry heaves into a chamber pot. Sitting back, she weakly wipes her mouth.

The tent flap opens and Much raises his head as a hand emerges. "Are you decent, My Lady?" Hawke calls from the other side.

Ana's eyes widen and she quickly pulls her blanket around her. "Come in."

Nate ducks inside and Ana notices the bowl in his hand. She feels her cheeks burn, knowing how terrible she must look. She averts her eyes. "Forgive me for receiving you like this." She says. "I'm not feeling well."

Even though she doesn't see it, he smiles. "So I've heard. Fergus said that you haven't been eating much." He strides forward and motions to the ground. "May I?"

Ana looks at where he motions and nods. Sitting down cross-legged a foot away, he carefully sets the bowl to the side. He watches her for a moment. Bags had begun to form under her eyes along with dark circles. Her skin, which normally was a lovely cream color without a single blemish was now pale with a thin sheen of sweat.

"I take it you heard about Rory?" She asks.

Pursing his lips, he nods. "Yes. I heard a day after Carver said you came to see me. I was hoping you'd stop by later but when you didn't show, I asked about you to your brother." He frowns. "I'm so sorry, Ana."

"Yeah. Me too."

"For what it's worth, My Lady, you will always have me as a loyal friend if you ever need to talk." He motions to Much. "You may even bring Much. It'll be a pleasant change from my brother's dreary company." He offers a smile but it falls as he gets little response from her. Sighing, he reaches for the bowl. "Anyways, I brought you some broth. Hopefully you'll be able to keep that down. If anything, it'll ensure you have at least something in your stomach."

She turns to look at the bowl and feels her stomach knot up. At this point, she couldn't tell if it was her hunger mixed with her lack of food or if it was just her stomach's refusal to cooperate. "You're too kind." She mutters.

"Nonsense. It's the least I can do." As she looks up, he smiles. "I know you're going through difficult times right now but I was told to inform you that the Grey Wardens had a funeral for Roderick and another recruit. It was a nice service. Fergus spoke on Roderick's behalf and lit the pyre-"

A pained look crosses Ana's face as she flinches. The thought of her lover being burned on a pyre was too much to bear. "Nate, please…" She whispers. "Don't tell me the details."

He nods. "Of course. My apologies, My Lady."

Her thoughts wanders to food once more and she can feel the bile making its way up her esophagus. She inhales a shaky breath and Hawke eyes her sympathetically.

"Perhaps you should have a little broth and rest." He suggests, rising. He holds out his hand to her. "Here. Take my hand. I'll help you back into your cot."

She shakes her head. "No. I doubt my stomach will allow much. Everytime I try to eat, it repels it."

"Have you seen a physician?"

The wave of nausea passes and she opens her eyes to look at him. "No." She shakes her head. "Fergus has suggested it many times but I've seen little use. It should pass."

Hawke frowns. "Perhaps you should be seen, just in case. During times like these, you never know if something can be more serious than you suspect." He shrugs. "At the very least, they be able to mix you up something to ease your nausea and help you sleep."

It was tempting.

Hawke suddenly smiles. "Do you hunt, My Lady?"

The question is so random that she's caught off guard. "What?"

"Do you hunt?" He repeats. "Being a Ferelden noble, I imagine you've been hunting before."

Her brows furrow. "Of course. I used to hunt with my father and brother. What-"

"Wonderful! How would you like to join me on a hunt tomorrow?" He pauses but when she doesn't reply, he continues. "Rest assured, I never venture out too far. I mostly want to go check on my snares and get away from camp for a little while. Surely you could use time away as well?"

"I don't know…" she frowns. "I doubt my stomach will be much better."

"I'll get you something for your nausea. What do you say?"

Risking a look, she glances up through her lashes at him. "Can I bring Much?"

Hearing his name, Much raises his head. He lowers his head just enough to tap her arm with his nose and licks her hand. She smiles down at him. "He's been cooped up in here with me the past couple days. While the rest is good for him, I imagine he'd find it far more enjoyable to chase a squirrel or two."

"Of course." He chuckles. "So, may I count on you to join me tomorrow?"

Ana bites her lip as she thinks about this. In all honesty, getting out of camp and away from all the sympathetic looks of her brother and others would be a nice change. She takes a deep breath before nodding. "Yes." She says, looking up at him.

Hawke's face lights up with a huge grin. "Wonderful! I shall meet you at the center of the main encampment at first light." He says, sweeping back toward the flaps of the tent. He pushes it opens and gives her a wink. "Don't be late."And then disappears through the flaps.

Surprisingly, the broth Hawke brought the previous night stays down and actually settles her stomach a little. Rising from her cot the next morning, she still felt queasy and weak from the days spent retching into a chamberpot. Pulling the new thick, woolen cloak Fergus gifted to her around herself, she motions for Much to join her. As usual, her first stop was the chantry tent to kneel before Andraste and pray for the strength to go on. Yet this day, she prayed that the Maker would also bless Hawke with his hunt and for his kindness toward her. Rising once more, she starts back toward the center of camp.

The smell of breakfast wafted over toward her from the mess tents and she felt her stomach knot up. Placing a hand over her mouth, she closes her eyes and takes a couple deep breaths until the feeling subsides. When she opens her eyes, she spots Hawke starting toward her.

"I'm glad to see you're up and about, My Lady." He grins. He shoulders his pack and slings his bow across his torso. Approaching her, he reaches into his pack and for a moment before holding up a small vial. Ana eyes it suspiciously.

"What is that?" She grimaces.

"For you." He simply states. He holds it out to her. "Here. This should help with your nausea for the time being."

She reluctantly takes it and removes the cork to smell it, her brows furrowing. "I don't smell anything."

"Given that certain smells can trigger nausea, I imagine that is a good thing, is it not?" He smiles and she feels the heat rise to her cheeks. He motions for her to drink and she complies. Tasteless, it's oddly cold as it pours down her throat, which is still a little raw from all her heaving, before a warmth spreads within her belly and any hint of nausea seemed to fade away. Her brows raise as she hands him back the empty vial.

"Thank you." She breathes. "Where did you get that?"

Taking the vial, he puts the cork back in it and returns it to his pack with a grin. "Since arriving here, I have become good friends with a mage who is talented with mixing assorted herbs." He shrugs. "Without telling your name, I told her I had a friend who would benefit greatly from a potion to help ease their stomach."

Ana smiles. "Perhaps you can introduce me to her later? I would like to thank her in person. I haven't felt this well in quite a while."

"You'll always either find her in the infirmary or with the other mages. She's usually the one running things so it's hard to miss her." He motions for her to follow.

Hawke starts walking and Ana silently falls into step beside him. As they begin to approach the forest stretching outward, Hawke finally speaks.

"My Lady." He says, turning to look at her. "May I ask you something?"

She nods. "Sure? You may just call me Ana, if you wish."

He smiles. "Very well. If you don't mind my asking, Ana, how did Ser Gilmore pass? The news of his death was shocking to say the least. When we last spoke, he seemed well enough." His smile falls. "Did something happen while he was in the wilds?"

Ana remains quiet as she turns over her possible responses in her mind. Hawke seemed to be more than capable of keeping a secret but should she reveal the secrets of the Joining? After all, it was that which killed him.

"Ana?" Hawke says as she doesn't reply. He frowns. "Forgive me. I should learn to reign in my curiosity."

Ana shakes her head. "It's fine." She says quietly. "He...he didn't die in the wilds; It unfortunately happened after he returned." She pauses. She slows her pace and leans against a nearby tree. "He was murdered."

Hawke's eyes widen. "Really? Do you know by whom?"

The Grey Wardens. She slowly nods. "By those whom I trusted the most."

As their eyes meet, tears begin to form as she slides down to sit at the base of the tree.

"Oh, Ana…" Hawke mutters. She crosses her arms over her knees and buries her face in her arms as her shoulders shake. He kneels beside her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gives it a light squeeze. "I am so sorry. I know losing a loved one, especially one you're close to is never easy."

Sniffing, she raises her head. Her bright blue eyes are ringed with red but sparkle in the light. "Somebody you loved died?" She asks, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

He nods. "My father. Three years ago."

"I'm ...so sorry. How?" She asks. "If you don't mind me asking."

Hawke smiles as he stands up. He holds out his hand. "Come. I'll tell you as we walk."

Looking at his hand, she sniffs once more before accepting it. He pulls her to her feet and motions for them to continue. "He was sick for months." He begins. "In the beginning, it seemed like he was just a little under the weather. He ran a small clinic in Lothering, you see-"

"Lothering. Is that where you're from?" She asks, earning a nod.

"For the most part." He smiles. "We moved around a lot. Since my parents arrived in Ferelden when my mother was pregnant with me, they've constantly been dodging templars."

Ana stops, her brows furrowing. "Your parents were apostates?"

"Just my father. He was originally from Ferelden and was taken to the Circle in Kirkwall within the Free Marches when he was young. It's… a very long story."

They continue walking in silence. As Ana looks around them for signs of game, Hawke watches her. "Ana?"

She turns to look at him, her brow raising.

"Since we are fairly out of earshot, may I ask you something?"

Regardless of her trust in Hawke, being alone with a man made her heart race as flashes of her attack replay in her mind. "That depends on what it has to do with."

He stops and touches her hand to make her stop as well. "Forgive me but it has to do with Ser Gilmore."

She feels her throat thicken and tears threaten to fall at the mention of his name but she nods. "Okay."

"Ser Gilmore died during his Joining, didn't he?"

Her eyes widen as her brows knit together. "How...?"

"It's a long story but my father once had dealings with the Grey Wardens. One of the younger recruits told him about the ritual one night while sitting around camp. The Wardens even tried to recruit me in the past but my father refused since not everybody who takes part in the ritual survives." He sighs. "And being that I was going to eventually be the eldest male of my family, it would have been foolish to challenge those odds."

"I see." Wanting to push any thoughts of the Joining away, Ana changes the subject. "I apologize for cutting you off earlier. What was it you were telling me about your father?"

"It's alright." He chuckles. "I was just saying that my father ran a small clinic in Lothering once we were finally safe enough from templars. Early on he caught a fever and was having night sweats, which we assumed was from him being around the sick every day." He gives a small shrug. "With each passing day, he started getting weaker and developed a cough that we later found to be tinged with blood."

Ana stops once more. "Consumption?"

Stopping, he nods. "You've seen it before?"

Ana shakes her head. "No but I've heard about it in my studies."

Hawke nods. "It's a terrible way to die. For several years, my mother tried everything to save him. For several long months we watched as he suffered and wasted away before our eyes."

"I'm so sorry, Nate." She frowns. "That had to be horrible." She starts to reach out to touch his hand as a comforting gesture before pulling it away as she's hit with a pang of guilt.

"It was but with time, I was able to eventually move on. It was tough but I did it." He nudges her. "With time, you will too."

"I doubt it." She mutters. "Everything has been taken from me. My family, the love of my life…"

"You still have Much and Fergus." Hawke points out. "I know it's not the same but when things get hard, just remember that you still have people to turn to." He offers her a smile. "Unfortunately, grief doesn't have a specific timeline but, while I may not be family, I'm here for you when you need some help."

Despite everything, her lips curl up into a small smile. "Thank you, Nate."