Nathaniel was almost tempted to smile at the papers flying across the room as Kya knocked them to the floor. He swallowed the urge. The last thing he wanted to do was give her the impression that any of this was okay. Because it wasn't; as if the murder of his father really hadn't been enough reason to hate her already.

"So what do you want to know?" she asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms across her chest.

"How about we start with what in the Black City just happened," Nathaniel replied, propping himself against the door frame.

Kya frowned. "What did you see?"

"Darkspawn, and some hideous bloated thing with tentacles," he admitted.

"Ah," she sighed. "A broodmother of all things." She shook her head. "Be glad the Blight is over. Or, well, maybe not. The archdemon was certainly louder, but I can't entirely say that it was worse than a broodmother."

"A what?" Nathaniel looked exasperated.

"Darkspawn do have mothers," she explained. "And that was it."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Is this going to happen whenever I sleep?"

"No," Kya mumbled. "Well, at least not once you learn to block them out. Alistair . . . ," She cleared her throat. "King Theirin," she corrected herself, "he told me once that some Wardens have trouble sleeping for the rest of their lives. But I haven't had much trouble, at least not since I put a sword through the archdemon's skull."

Nathaniel watched her carefully as she spoke. With each word her pale skin seemed to blanch just a little bit more until it looked like she had no blood at all. Her eyes glittered in the faint light from the fire.

"I take it the nightmares are the least of my worries," he said, "Judging by your expression."

Kya nodded. "Unfortunately, yes, probably the least disturbing thing I have to tell you."

"This just keeps getting better," he sighed.

"Slightly better than being dead, all things considered," she countered.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow dubiously, but didn't reply. Kya stood and walked around the desk until the firelight was behind her, casting her face in shadow. She leaned back against the wood, grabbing the quill from the surface and rolling it between her fingers.

"I might as well just tell you what I know," she said. "And it's not the whole story, I'm sure. What I know is just from my experience, and what . . . Alistair told me." He noticed she again dropped his royal title, but didn't comment. "Neither of us really knew the entirety of what it meant to be a Grey Warden; and I still don't. Not even now. All the senior Wardens that should have been there to teach us were dead."

"Ostagar," he said finally. "I heard about that."

Ignoring the subject, she continued. "There are really two important things you need to know. The first is that the Taint in your blood now allows you to sense the darkspawn. Unfortunately, it means they can sense you too."

"Sense?" he asked. He pursed his lips. "As in?"

"As in you will feel them," she said. "I don't know any good way to describe it. You have to experience it. But when you do, you'll understand."

"And the second dire bit of news?"

She swallowed hard enough that he could hear it. She turned away from him and walked to the fire, putting her hands out and rubbing them together. He saw her shoulders rise with a silent breath. Gracefully, she sunk down on to the rug in front of the hearth, crossing her legs in front of her. Kya looked up at him over her shoulder.

"You might want to sit down for this," she said.

Nathaniel shook his head. "I'll stand, thanks," he replied without an ounce of actual gratitude.

"Whatever you want," she said. "But I'll tell you, I was glad to be sitting when I found out." She looked up at him expectantly, as if he would move. But stubborn to the core, Nathaniel made it a point to stay as still as a stone. She shook her head again.

"You have thirty years to live," she blurted out. "Give or take." She cringed a bit at the words, but it didn't entirely seem because of the message itself. Nathaniel prided himself on keeping his blank expression, despite the fact that his heart was now sitting somewhere near the soles of his feet.

"Is that so?" he replied emotionlessly.

"It is," she said. "The taint is a poison. Eventually, your body won't be able to fight it anymore. And you'll have two choices. Do as most Grey Wardens do and go to the Deep Roads to die in battle, or go mad and become . . . well, you don't want to know."

He took a few steps forward. "Maybe not, but I deserve to know."

"I suppose you do," Kya replied. She leaned back on her hands and looked up at him. "Most people - humans, elves, dwarves, doesn't matter – can't handle the Taint. But unlike the Joining, where it is so concentrated that you die immediately, if you are tainted in another way, a wound in battle or the like, you become . . . infected. Eventually the Taint will turn you into a ghoul; a mad thing as much darkspawn as human, incapable of coherent thought and only obsessed with killing. And, of course, finding another old god. That's what happens to Grey Wardens that can't face their Calling. That's what they call it when your time comes. If you can't face it, the other Wardens will have to kill you, to protect themselves and everyone else from what you will become."

And then he did exactly as she asked. He took a few steps and sat down hard beside her on the floor, his legs half bent. He folded his arms across his knees and rested his forehead on his arms. Nathaniel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to absorb everything she'd just told him. This was just an execution that would take longer. Of course, he'd never expected to live to be an old man, but the idea of time being so finite made his mortality seem like a huge, uncontrollable thing.

"I know what you're thinking," she said quietly. He didn't bother to look up. "But it isn't true. I didn't do this to punish you."

He looked up at that and met her eyes. She was staring at him intently.

"No?" he asked. "I can't imagine what else it could be."

"It's simple," she said. "I need help. I know you can't feel it yet, but I can. Something is wrong. The darkspawn should be fleeing back underground and they aren't. They're regrouping. And darkspawn don't . . . think . . . on their own. It takes something to lead them. And I have no idea what it is." She swallowed again. "I need Wardens strong enough to help me fight whatever this is. And it took four Grey Wardens to capture you."

"So if I'd surrendered, instead of fighting back?"

"Then I'd have let you go," she admitted. "I'm sorry, but I did what I had to. The Senior Warden at Weisshaupt already reassigned Loghain . . . I can't do this alone."

"Aren't there any others at all left?" he asked.

"Just Oghren, who's an excellent warrior when he can be bothered to sober up and . . . an old friend I suppose, Anders, an apostate mage. And of course there is the King of Ferelden, but he's turned his back on us," she explained. "I need your help."

Nathaniel hummed. "I guess you have it, whether I like it or not then." And it was true, as much as what she said had the ring of truth about it.

She gave him a sad smile. "On the bright side," she said. "The rumors about Grey Warden stamina are true."

"Wait, do you mean?" Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at her. "Is that so?"

She laughed. "Very."

There was no more sleep to be had that night for him. Kya had tried to insist that he take her bed and sleep more, but it was the last thing he had any desire for. Instead, he took in her weary face and the purple rings under her eyes and left her to rest, disappearing like a shadow up on to the battlements.

The stones were stained with darkspawn blood from the earlier battles. The bodies had been cleared away, but the stench of the Taint and burnt hair was thick in the still air. The air was cool, but the stones were warm enough still from the heat they'd soaked up during the day for the smell to linger. Nathaniel walked silently, running his hands along the scarred and worn walls. It had been so long since he'd been home . . . but was this really his home now, or just a prison of another sort?

When his father sent him to squire in the Free Marches, he'd been so eager to prove himself, until he realized why he'd been sent away. He was the eldest, and rightfully, the heir to the arling. But unlike his younger brother, Thomas, he often clashed with his father, even as a boy. Nathaniel had his own mind, and wasn't afraid to use it. As much as he loved his brother, he knew his weaknesses. When Thomas had come to visit him once, it was clear that their father was grooming him to be his heir, not Nathaniel.

It wasn't something he was particularly distressed by, except on principle. Thomas was weak and a drunkard, hiding from any real responsibility in the bottom of a bottle. Or between the legs of any passably attractive woman who was willing and on occasion some who were less than enthusiastically so. But Thomas didn't care and he was so saturated with the egotistical superiority of a nobleman that he thought it was his right to do as he pleased.

The apple had not fallen far from the tree in his case.

Nathaniel knew who they were, Thomas and his father. He knew the machinations of noble intrigue and he knew well to spot a lie when he saw one. Kya hadn't lied to him. Not even once, despite how hard he'd been trying to find one. She hadn't told him everything, he knew that. There was more to this story than she was sharing. But what she had shared was absolute, crystalline truth, right down to needing his help.

He was not entirely sure he wanted to give it, but he knew he would.

Amaranthine was his home, even if the Vigil wasn't anymore. He wasn't going to stand by while the darkspawn swarmed across the countryside like locusts, destroying everything in their path. Not while he still drew breath.

"Howe," a voice said from the shadows. Nathaniel spun around, shocked that someone had managed to sneak up on him. A man stepped forward, in robes with disheveled blonde hair hanging loose around his face. Nathaniel recognized the robes immediately as mage robes. This must be the apostate, Anders that Kya had mentioned.

"So," Anders said, folding his arms across his chest. "You survived the joining."

Nathaniel mimicked his stance. "Lucky me, or lucky you as the case may be," he replied.

"I hope so," Anders said, taking a step forward. He frowned and dropped his hands, and Nathaniel saw a little flick of flame dance between the mage's fingertips. "Because . . . look, I'm not the protective type. But Kya is my friend; I've known her since I was ten years old. And I know why you came here. Rumors spread through the Vigil like fire it seems."

There was another little crackle of gold between his fingers. Nathaniel eyes were drawn to it, watching as the fire moved over Anders's skin without burning him.

The mage spoke again. "If you try to hurt her, I will kill you."

"Oh really?" Nathaniel drawled. "I'm sure there would be a waiting list. Besides, didn't she best Loghain Mac Tir? I doubt I'm much of a threat to her."

"In a fight? I'm sure you're right," Anders replied. "You wouldn't stand a chance. But an assassin doesn't wait to make sure his target can fight back."

Nathaniel frowned. "What kind of a man do you think I am?"

"I don't know," Anders said quickly. "You tell me."